


where living doesn’t feel like falling

by februyuri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester’s Appallingly Low Self-Esteem, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2019, Gas-N-Sip (Supernatural), Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel (Supernatural), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Touch-Starved, Trans Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/februyuri/pseuds/februyuri
Summary: The year is 2002 and Castiel is a part-time student, full-time gas station sales associate living in Rexford, Idaho. One day, a handsome young man in a black Chevrolet drops by the Gas-N-Sip and changes his life forever.





	1. what does that make me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: canon typical violence, conversion therapy (mentioned), cults/religion, alcohol, dysphoria, internalized transphobia, homophobia, child death mention  
Alternative universe: pre-series, no angels.

“Morning Cas!” Nora greeted. Fortunately, she looked more relieved than annoyed to see him. Castiel had woken up after his alarm. He’d stayed up late the night before working on a paper and, waking up, he’d fumbled around for his work shirt by the door and barely caught his bus in time.

“Sorry I was late,” he said breathlessly. He was usually more punctual, and he felt a small sting of guilt for making her wait. He hadn’t bothered with coffee or breakfast, thinking he could get what he needed here with his meager discount, but his manager was already halfway out the door.

“It’s fine. Listen, Cas, I have to go,” she said, digging through the purse slung around her shoulder, distracted. “The sitter called and said my daughter’s sick.”

“Is Tanya alright?” Cas asked. He’d watched her more than once and when he’d first babysat her, he’d nearly taken her to a hospital out of worry.

“She should be,” Nora said, smiling appreciatively over at him, though it was clear she was still stressed. “I’ll phone as soon as I get home to let you know when I can come back. Let’s see—Tom didn’t come this morning with the delivery, but he might drop by later this evening, so sign for that.” Cas nodded as she pulled on her coat and pulled her hair out of her collar. “Mrs. Young stopped by and left two dozen eggs, they’re in the fridge—you can take both if you want.

“Also, for whatever reason, the pumps aren’t working outside,” she concluded apologetically. “Something’s wrong with the server. I called the company but there’s not much we can do until they fix it.” Cas tried not to be too annoyed by that; customers always behaved so dramatically when they had to come inside to pay.

“Are you alright on your own?” Nora asked, concerned as though she’d overwhelmed with instruction.

“I’ll try to beat back the rush,” Cas replied dryly, glancing around the empty Gas-N-Sip. Nora cracked a relieved smile and patted his arm.

“Just don’t break the Slurpee machine again,” she shot back, more affectionate than accusatory.

“Take care of Tanya,” he replied. He could take care of the shop. She nodded briskly and headed for the door, leaving Castiel alone in the gas station. 

He sighed. In his haste, he’d also forgotten his textbook and notes so this would be a solid eight hours that Castiel wouldn’t be able to study. Except…Castiel wandered behind the till and dug around beneath the stacks of papers, pulling out a small book of practice questions he’d gotten second-hand.

He didn’t like to study at work, but business was rarely busy and he’d fallen into the habit awhile ago. Once Castiel had ensured everything was under working order, he could settle down and prepare for one of the last physics midterms of his undergraduate degree.

The shelves all seemed in order; no customer had left the products in disarray. As well, Castiel could see, with few exceptions, the stock had been pulled forward—his handiwork from the night before. All he really needed to do was cook a fresh Hawaiian Explosion pizza. And so, he began his work.

It was almost peaceful sometimes, working alone. A little dull, perhaps, but dull was fine. Controllable. Safe. He slid a pizza into the preheated oven and moved away to wipe down the counters. If you’d asked Castiel when he was young and idealistic—young and_ foolish—_what he’d be doing at age twenty-eight, he would have thought he’d have a wife, a doctorate, perhaps a family of his own. He had none of those things.

And yet, he found a humble honour in this life. He was advancing slowly but with grace. Granted, it was difficult not to succeed with so little responsibility, but whatever his task, Castiel committed his best work. That his best work was not _ the _best work was beyond his control but. This he could do.

The chime at the door rang out, interrupting Castiel from his thoughts. He glanced up to see who’d entered the Gas-N-Sip. A tall man blew into the place, walking fast. “Pump’s not working outside,” he informed Castiel, looking somewhat irritated. And so it began.

“Yes,” Cas started. “Sorry, yes, the machine’s”—he fumbled with the oven, taking the pizza out—_“broken. _You’ll have to pay in here. Sorry, there should be a sign—” There usually was.

The man’s face softened to something a little more forgiving. “Guess I should’ve read that piece of paper,” he said, with an air of self-deprecation. _ “All _your pumps are down?”

“Something to do with the server,” Cas said, repeating Nora’s justification. The man nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Well, alright, Cas,” he said, eyeing Castiel’s nametag. Castiel shifted…he didn’t like it when customers read off his name. “I’d like to put twenty-five dollars in my tank.” Cas nodded, glancing out the window to spot the ink-black car outside at pump #3. He started moving over to the till. “Hang on, I’d like to shop around first, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Cas said, glancing away from the man after nodding politely. He found the pizza cutter and started cutting up thin slices to put on display. The man wandered farther into the Gas-n-Sip, browsing the shelves.

He was good-looking—striking, almost, like someone from a magazine. Young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with cropped short hair, wearing a leather jacket that was perhaps one size too big. He didn’t look like the average Idahoan, that much was certain, and he walked about the Gas-N-Sip with a level casual confidence Cas wasn’t used to seeing.

“Say, you lived here long?” the man asked. “I’m just passing through.” No one had really asked Castiel that before. If customers chose to speak to Castiel, it was usually because they wanted to talk about themselves or to use it to at least circle back to themselves eventually. There was a strong chance this man was no different.

“I’ve lived here for three years now,” Cas said, surprising himself. Time had really passed him by. “If you’re looking for tourism spots, we offer a town pamphlet.” He pointed to the magazine rack. “I also know of a few lovely hiking spots nearby.” The man laughed at that. Cas blinked, not sure whether or not he should be offended on behalf of his town.

Instead the man introduced himself. “My name’s Dean,” he said. “I’m on the road a lot doing, uh…research on urban legends.” Urban legends. Cas has never heard of a research topic like this before and he was intrigued. No wonder the young man had stuck out to him.

“That sounds like quite the adventure,” Cas admitted.

Dean seemed flustered. “My dad’s the writer. I’m just doing some of the legwork.” He cleared his throat and picked up some junk food from the shelf, tossing it down onto the counter across from Cas. “I’ve been hearing something about a, uh—ghost, in this region of Rexford.” His eyes were dark, perhaps green or brown; it was difficult to say. “Haunted vehicles. You hear anything about that? Any customers mention anything?”

“They haven’t,” Cas said, looking away from Dean and scanning his items, not having anything interesting to say. “Sorry.” Dean nodded, expression dimming. He’d likely wasted his whole trip. “That isn’t to say that some of the locals might not know more,” Cas added, and then said, a little ashamedly, “I don’t get out much between work and classes.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked with renewed interest. “You’re going to school?” He looked Cas up and down, appraising him, probably trying to judge Cas’s age. “What for?”

Cas felt a little off. “Physics,” he said, embarrassed for having to. He was still working on his undergraduate degree at twenty-eight years old, nearly a decade older than some of his peers, but there was no way around it. “I’ll be graduating this spring,” he offered, a weak compensation.

“Wow. Good luck, man,” Dean said, looking genuinely impressed. “Guess you’ll be the next Einstein, huh?” Castiel honestly didn’t know what to say to that. He had a passion for particle physics, certainly, but he lacked the creativity to make the leaps people like Schrödinger and Einstein had made.

He looked down at the food Dean had placed on the counter. It wasn’t like there was anyone else in line, or that Cas wanted him to stop talking, but he didn’t understand why the man was still here when anyone else would have been gone minutes ago.

“Oh, right,” Dean said, sheepish, swiping his wallet out of his back pocket. “What do I owe?”

“Six fifty-eight, uh—” Cas realized he hadn’t charged Dean for gas. “Thirty-one seventy.” Dean took out a few twenty-dollar bills, handing them over to Cas. “Here’s your change,” Cas said, feeling his fingers brush against Dean’s palm as he gave Dean his coins. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah,” Dean said, stuffing his wallet back into his pants, looking up at Cas. “Actually, hang on,” he said. Castiel gave him the slip of paper and Dean took a pen off the counter.

“If you hear any ghost stories,” he said, scribbling something onto the back of the receipt and sliding it back over to Cas’s side of the counter—it was a phone number, along with a first and last name, and Dean Winchester was leaning a little into Castiel’s space, looking earnestly across at him—green, his eyes were green—“you give me a call, okay?”

“Okay,” Cas repeated, dumbly.

“Awesome,” Dean said, grinning a little, grabbing his purchase and standing up straight, nearly walking into the chips bin. “I’ll, uh—I’ll see you around,” he said, making his way out the door.

Cas stood there for a moment, just holding onto the receipt. That had been…bizarre. But perhaps that’s how it was to be a novelist…to get information. Castiel took out his wallet and tucked the receipt inside. He was confident that he wasn’t going to learn any more about potential ghosts in this small town, given that this meeting had been one of the more interesting things that had ever happened to him here. But as intriguing as Dean was, Castiel didn’t mind the boredom. He turned to clean the oven. 

*

In all honesty, Cas didn’t think much about his meeting with Dean. Dean was an interesting individual, with his occult jewelry, black leather jacket, and ghost stories, but he was one customer passing through town, never to be seen again. As fate would have it, not a week passed after their meeting, when Cas had left work and was waiting for the six o’clock bus, when Dean’s aforementioned ghosts turned their sights on him.

Their presence first manifested as a cold chill down Castiel’s spine, his breath sighing out thick as smoke. It was autumn, so that wasn’t abnormal, but the fact that the plastic of the bus stop’s shelter cracked and shattered with the shift in temperature…that was odd. The improbability of it was only surpassed by the appearance of a pale figure of what seemed to be a teenage boy, calling for Castiel’s death. After meeting Dean, Cas didn't get to enjoy the privilege of monotony for long.

Cas had always been able to handle himself in physical altercations but he quickly decided that ghosts, or hallucinations, were not something worth trying to fight. He elected to bravely run away instead and soon learned that vengeful spirits couldn’t be outrun either. Fortunately, he hadn’t had to. Sprinting, he’d stumbled into a man, clad in leather and holding a shotgun, and recognized him almost instantly.

“Cas, right?” Dean spoke up, eyes bright. _ “Duck.” _

“Excuse me?” Cas asked, bewildered. Dean reached forward, pushing Cas down to his knees, raising his shotgun and firing next to Cas’s ear. He meant the action, not the waterfowl.

“Sorry,” Dean grunted, grabbing Cas by his ultramarine uniform and pulling him back to his feet. “Here, hold this.” He tossed Cas what appeared to be a fire poker.

“I—” Cas stumbled, ears ringing. “Why?”

“Made of iron,” Dean explained. “Ghosts can’t—” Whatever ghosts couldn’t do remained a mystery because apparently what ghosts _ could _ do was thrust their hands into the centre of Dean’s chest, and squeeze. Instinctively, Cas stepped forward and swiped the poker through the ghost’s form, causing it to vanish into smoke. Dean collapsed to his knees, wheezing.

“Jesus!” he complained, clutching his chest, gasping for breath. “Okay, Cas, he’s gonna come back and I’m gonna need your help here, alright?” Cas fished his arm beneath Dean’s, holding the poker in one hand and Dean in the other.

“What do you need?” Cas asked. Dean handed him a set of keys.

“In my car,” Dean said, still having trouble breathing. Cas recognized the black Chevrolet and dragged Dean over as quickly as he could, getting into the passenger’s side as Dean turned the engine on.

“Okay, buddy, are you okay with doing a little bit of gravedigging?” Dean asked, checking behind him as he pulled out onto the street. “My heart feels like it went ten rounds with a lug wrench, so I dunno if I’m up to it.”

“Gravedigging?” Cas echoed.

“That’s how you bust ghosts,” Dean said. “Salt and torch the remains.”

“So, that _ was _ a ghost,” Cas realized, mystified. He’d known, but also had refused to believe it. While ghosts had been referenced in the Bible, it was understood that the dead went to one of two places—Heaven or Hell, they weren’t known to wander, except apparently they did.

“Car accident,” Dean explained, pressing on the gas. “Couple of teenagers went for a joyride twenty years ago, drove off the road.”

“Why are they bothering people?” Cas asked. Castiel’s attacker _ had _ seemed quite young.

“They’re teenagers,” Dean said, winking at Castiel. “They’re douchebags.” Castiel considered the boys that smoked marijuana outside the Gas-N-Sip and always tried to steal semi-pornographic magazines, and found himself silently agreeing.

“Took me forever to figure out who the hell they were because of privacy laws, plus, genius mechanics around here, didn’t just destroy the car,” Dean went on. “They salvaged parts and stuck them in other cars.”

“That’s…morbid,” Cas shivered, glancing out the window as Dean.

“That’s cost-effective,” Dean said, drumming his hand along the steering wheel. Cas supposed Dean would be a better judge than him. “They didn’t know that DNA had gotten all over those parts. That’s why the ghosts are able to get around town. And also, if you’ve noticed an uptick in vandalism, uh…don’t report me, alright?”

Cas hadn’t, but he assured Dean that he wouldn’t. Dean grinned.

“Hell yeah,” he crowed. “You’re my partner in crime, now.”

Dean peeled his way down the streets of Rexford in his black car to the local graveyard, pulling up in front of it. “I destroyed pretty much all the car parts that their spirits had latched onto, but one kid got buried instead of cremated. You know what that means?”

“Gravedigging,” Castiel remembered. Dean parked the car and headed out.

“Bingo,” Dean praised, prying open his trunk and pulling out two shovels. “Sorry to catch you at the end of your shift, Cas,” he said, tossing Cas one shovel.

“Did these ghosts hurt anyone?” Cas asked, following Dean into the graveyard.

“Yeah,” Dean said regretfully. “But they’re going after everyone, so don’t take it personally.” Castiel nodded. He didn’t understand what Dean was saying half the time, but he trusted him enough to march into the graveyard behind him.

“This is it,” Dean said, tapping his shovel on the gravestone grimly. “Nicholas Spencer.”

“How do you know?” Cas asked, not wanting to break the law over nothing. It didn’t even say the year its occupant died.

“I had to break into the police department to get the casefile,” Dean said.

“Is that legal?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Dean replied, winking, and starting to dig.

Enlisting Castiel, together they dug up a grave in the setting sun, intent on salting and burning the bones belonging to the ghost. However, things were never easy, and while they did manage to put an end to the apparitions, it was not before Castiel was picked up by one Nicholas Spencer and bodily thrown several meters across the graveyard, proving quite conclusively that the grave had belonged to him.

The moment Dean set the remains on fire, the ghost vanished, leaving Castiel sore on the ground. Dean walked over to Castiel, dusting off his jeans. “You never called me,” he seemed to pout, setting down his shovel.

“I never heard anything about ghosts until now,” Castiel replied, still breathing heavily. He took stock of his body. He was aching all over, but nothing appeared broken. He was alive. Carefully, he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

“That doesn’t mean you—” Dean started grumbling, and then his expression morphed to one of comprehension. “Oh. Okay, that’s fair, actually.” Castiel suddenly felt exasperated with this man. He didn’t know what Dean wanted from him. But when Dean reached out a hand to help Castiel to his feet, Cas accepted. His grip was firm.

Outside the graveyard, Dean brought Castiel over to the boot of his car, the same shiny black model Cas had seen at the gas station. He pried open the trunk to a modest arsenal of weaponry, as well as a case of beer. “Want one?” Dean asked, tossing Castiel a bottle before Cas could say anything.

“I don’t drink,” Cas said. Drinking for pleasure was sinful, and to his knowledge there was no other reason to drink. He hadn’t much cared for the taste of Communion wine, but after such a day Castiel thought he might as well start.

“Wow,” Dean said, closing the trunk and leaning against his car. He considered Castiel with what seemed like curiosity, but without judgement. “Really. What do you do for fun?” This was a question Cas could answer, though he was surprised that Dean was interested.

“I read,” he replied, moving to lean next to Dean on the car. He didn’t have a TV, or well, he _ did _, but he didn’t use it. He rarely had time, but when he was able to, Castiel would go to the library and oscillate between classics, best sellers, and thick physics tomes. Once, he’d studied the Bible in his free time, but he got the feeling that wouldn’t go over well with someone like Dean.

“No wonder you thought me driving around all day was an adventure,” Dean gasped out, laughing. He found it funny somehow. Cas wasn’t worldly, and he imagined it was easier to drink than to read books, so Cas tried not take it personally. Still, something about what Dean said caught Cas’s attention.

“You _ did _ just rescue me,” he pointed out. He didn’t know much about adventure beyond what he’d read, and this seemed to fit the bill. Dean shrugged modestly, though he grinned. “Are you even a writer?”

“That was my cover,” Dean admitted. He turned a charming smile onto Cas. “Was it good?” Castiel didn’t know what to make of him at all.

“I believed it,” he offered. He’d been told he was gullible, however.

“Yeah, this is kind of my job,” Dean said. “But it’s not all glitz and glam.”

“You save lives,” Cas started, trying not to sound too starstruck by the man sitting across from him. Two hours ago, Castiel hadn’t known that ghosts existed. It sounded dangerous but it _ did _have an element of adventure.

“It’s the family business,” Dean replied a little dismissively, growing more serious. He had a ring on his right ring finger—it almost looked like a wedding band—which he used to pry the cap off his beer. He had lovely hands. The carbonation fizzed over a little and Dean added, a little self-consciously, “Even if my brother didn’t like it…”

“Do you?” Cas asked, the cool beer sweating between his palms. Dean seemed to enjoy the attention Cas was giving him, but at the same time felt uncomfortable describing it in too idealistic of terms. Dean opened his mouth.

“To be totally honest, Cas, I don’t know what else I’d do if not this,” he admitted, bringing his beer to his lips. The setting light caught his silhouette and Cas squinted against it. “I’m not…I mean, you’re going to be the next Stephen Hawking, right?” Cas was surprised, and quietly flattered, that Dean remembered.

“He’s more known for his cosmological work, I’m currently interested in particle physics,” Cas said. Dean raised his eyebrows, as though Castiel had proven his point.

“That goes right over my head. My brother’s studying to be a lawyer, that’s also way beyond me,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. Modestly, he added, “I, uh…I’m good with cars. I dunno, I could always settle down into some sort of trades job. Break my back working.” He didn’t seem happy considering it.

“But, it’s not all blood and guts,” he admitted, leaning back against his car with a considering look on his face. “Sometimes it’s more guts ‘n’ glory. I mean, you’re not wrong. I _ am _helping people, killing monsters, I got a girl in every state. I’m basically Han Solo, dude.” Castiel didn’t always understand everything Dean said but he could appreciate the sentiment behind Dean’s words.

“Aside from the women,” Cas noted tentatively. “It sounds a little lonely to be…solo.” He would know.

Dean scoffed, taking another swig of his beer. “I’m fine, man. A lone wolf.” He made a small howling noise to prove his point. Cas nodded slowly. Dean coughed and glanced down, as though uncomfortable. Then, roughly, he reached over to tug the beer from Cas’s grasp. “Not to pressure you, Cas.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked curiously, letting Dean pull the bottle away.

“I know some people have issues with alcohol,” Dean said. “Don’t wanna make you feel obligated.”

“No, it’s not that,” Cas said, realizing Dean thought he might be an alcoholic. “I’ve just never had the opportunity.” Nora had never invited him out for drinks with the girls as he wasn’t one himself but that would have been the only reason Castiel ever would have had to drink.

“Seriously?” Dean asked. He raised an eyebrow again with a look of quiet, familiar disbelief. “Do you want one?” Castiel looked between Dean and the beer. Suddenly, he very ardently wanted one. He held out his hand to take back the beer but Dean pulled away, considering. “Maybe two-dollar brews isn’t the best way to deflower you.”

“What’s the difference?” Cas grumbled, finding himself wanting. “It’s all ethanol.”

“Oh Cas, you child,” Dean said, though he must have been a few years younger than Castiel. “We gotta hit up a liquor store. Or a bar. Whatever’s closer.” He grabbed Castiel by the collar and yanked him along to the passenger’s side of his car.

*

“It doesn’t taste good,” Cas said frankly, setting the drink Dean had bought him down on the counter. Caught between being polite and being honest, he thought Dean would prefer the latter, and he was right. Dean grinned and knocked their knees together beneath the table.

“Well, booze isn’t really about the taste, Cas, it’s about the feel,” he said, leaning in a little too close. The way he grinned showed off his canines in a way Cas tripped over.

“Like drugs,” Cas said. For some reason, Castiel had associated alcohol with food—that people would imbibe it for the sake of taste, or that at least the taste would be pleasant. But no, it was strictly for the sensation—drunkenness.

“Jeez, Cas,” Dean said, leaning back to Cas’s regret. “Beer isn’t going to make you see little green men. It’s natural, but it ain’t shrooms.”

“No, that’s alright, I like coffee now,” Cas assured Dean. “And it can be considered a drug.” His old church had never encouraged the consumption of anything mind-altering, but he didn't want Dean to think less of him.

“Wait, you never used to drink coffee?” Dean asked curiously. “Dude, how old _ are _you?”

It felt like a trick. “Twenty-eight?"

_ “Damn,”_ Dean mused and Castiel felt appropriately shamed. “Okay so you don’t drink booze, you don’t drink coffee…”

“I _ do _drink coffee,” Cas pointed out, feeling a little grouchy. It would’ve been impossible to make it this far into his degree without it.

“Where did you come from, man?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised. “Planet Vulcan?”

“Why would I come from a different planet?” Cas asked.

“‘Vulcan’, Cas,” Dean said impatiently. “Like Spock. Star Trek.” Castiel couldn’t respond to that, he just gaped at Dean, who gaped right back. “You know what _ Star Trek _ is, right? What about Star Wars?” Cas fidgeted, looking down at his bottle. He’d _ heard _of these things, but that apparently wasn’t enough. “Holy crap, you don’t know what Star Wars is.”

“I had a…sheltered upbringing,” Cas muttered. He considered taking another sip of beer.

_ “I’ll _ say!” Dean cried out. “Cas, there’s so much out there you gotta know about!” He was close to Cas now, energetic. “You gotta put down the books, let me show you the ropes.”

“But you’re…leaving town, aren’t you?” Cas pointed out. Dean stopped, mouth hanging open.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “I can come back.” Cas’s chest suddenly felt both tighter and lighter, somehow.

“You could,” he agreed. He sipped his drink, deciding it didn’t taste as bad as he’d first thought. “I won’t be going anywhere.” Dean nodded carefully.

“I drive all over the states,” Dean said. “Bound to end up out west sometime.” Cas held his breath. “Alright,” Dean decided, holding up his beer and grinning. “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Castiel briefly wondered if Dean had forgotten his name, but then Dean clinked their bottles together and that was enough.

*

Dean came back to town two weeks later. Castiel said nothing but honestly hadn’t expected him to. After all, what use would a man with a woman in every state have for a Gas-N-Sip sales associate? But still, Dean visited. He had a case a few cities over in Montana, apparently, and he brought with him various bottles of alcohol from Texas, from Florida, from California, and several VHS tapes.

He and Cas spent an afternoon setting up the television set Castiel had never bothered to use and sampling the beers, originally out of separate glasses Cas had poured for them, and then as time winded down straight from the bottle, from mouth to mouth. Dean had knocked on Cas’s door at around noon and they had the TV working by two.

As Castiel acclimated to the world of Star Wars, Dean used Cas’s phone, scribbling down Castiel’s number for himself, to order in pizza. They’d watch the several Westerns too, apparently. “Glad I caught you on your day off, man,” Dean said. “Listen, you need a cellphone, or something, so I don’t miss you.”

“I can’t afford one at the moment,” Castiel said honestly. Dean considered, and then seemed to decide that was fair.

“Yeah, I don’t have a home phone myself, because, you know—no home,” he said.

Cas liked this. Liked spending time someone, Dean, this way, the two of them crammed together on his mattress. Easily sharing space in Castiel’s bedroom, a sparse if slightly messy space lit only by the sunlight crawling through the cracks of his blinds and, now, the white glow of his television. Castiel wouldn’t address it, but there was some intimacy to it. Even back home, there had always seemed to be some space put between Castiel and his family.

That space vanished with Dean who, other than periodic reminders that acquaintances had to maintain some sense of formality between each other, pooled into a comfortable puddle on Castiel’s bed, drinking from Cas’s bottle when he’d exhausted his own, idly leaning his thigh against Castiel’s before retracting it with a brief enigmatic look of embarrassment.

Nothing was meant by it, though the ease and interest with which Dean pursued this, whatever it was, did make Cas wonder. Once, Cas shifted over to make more room for Dean and Dean, drinking, seemed to unconsciously move in to claim the space left behind. Cas resolved not to think about it too much.

He was glad for the company, whatever the reason. He hadn’t made many friends at school, and while he got along with people at work he was always a little too odd, a little too separate and different, to really fit in among them. But Dean struck Castiel as kind of odd himself, perhaps the fact that he’d visited and settled onto Castiel’s bed so comfortably almost made sense.

They watched the movie in silence for awhile, Castiel trying to absorb the plot. He’d never seen anything quite like this…as fantastical as it was. A movie about heroism, adventure, and physically impossible laser swords. Cas inclined his head slightly to explain to Dean how one couldn’t confine a laser beam into a saber-like weapon, when he noticed Dean watching him, stunting his words.

He wasn’t quite seeing Cas, looking just south of his eyes, but while his gaze was a little vacant, hazy and dark, it seemed focused. Interested. Dean ran a tongue along his lips, a quick moment, unconscious, and Cas’s mouth dried. Perhaps Dean was observing his mouth, as all signs seemed to indicate. Cas moved to speak but found himself unable to, caught on the look in Dean’s eyes, feeling his skin burn beneath Dean’s watch for reasons he couldn’t explain. It was strange.

Castiel didn’t like being watched; it rarely led to good things. As a child, he’d always been told he had stared too often and for too long and that in itself had marked him out. But, he didn’t mind Dean’s gaze, regardless of why it was cast on him. Castiel felt self-conscious, of course, but not afraid, not judged. It was no accident, Cas knew, and no doubt Dean was…considering him, observing him. But Castiel didn’t feel worried he felt…intrigued.

Cas cleared his throat, finding it tight, and turned away from Dean, obscuring Dean’s line of sight. Just as Cas had become comfortable with the weight of Dean’s gaze, it snapped back up to his eyes, and then away, as though Dean was embarrassed for having been caught looking. Dean coughed uncomfortably.

“This is fun, Cas,” he admitted, voice low. So that’s what he had been thinking of. Not anything else.

“I’m glad,” Cas murmured, letting the moment fracture. It was better that way. He got off the bed to grab another beer and to let Dean move where he willed. He held up another beer as an offer to Dean, but Dean shook his head.

“I gotta get back on the road by nightfall,” he said.

“Oh,” Cas said out loud. He was surprised that Dean had just dropped in for the day. It wasn’t as though Castiel could have offered Dean a place to stay properly, given that there was only one bed. Castiel had thought to sleep in the tub, if need be.

“C’mon,” Dean said, gesturing at the TV, relaxing. “This is the best part.”

Castiel got back onto the bed next to Dean and tried to watch the television and not Dean’s reactions to it, but it was difficult. In the dimness of his bedroom, the television lit up Dean’s face. He was watching the screen, rapt, though he’d seen this film before, biting subconsciously on his fingernail, depressing his bottom lip with his thumb.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” Cas admitted, blinking.

“Yeah, we’ve established this Cas, you’re a cloistered nun,” Dean said, distracted, reaching over for the remote control to adjust the volume.

“I mean just spending time with someone like this,” Cas said. Just sat and watched a movie, not to speak of the intimacy of sharing a bed with another soul. Dean hesitated next to him. “I suppose I don’t have many friends.” Cas had shot for bald honesty, but the confession just sounded pathetic.

“C’mon, what about your family?” Dean asked, turning slightly on his side to look at Castiel.

“I don’t speak to them much,” Cas replied. Or at all. He considered how much he should tell Dean. Dean already had them pegged as overbearing, but he likely couldn’t guess the extent of it. “They…disowned my sister when they discovered she was gay.”

“Oh,” Dean said. He didn’t seem disgusted. A little surprised perhaps, as Cas had been. “Good for you—sticking up for your sister.” Cas felt a flash of guilt. He didn’t know why it mattered to him that Dean thought well of him, but it did.

“It actually took me another three years to side with her,” he said. “Then, our family stopped paying for my tuition and…now I’m a number of years in debt.” To afford school, Castiel had to split his time between work and classes, ensuring that he could rarely go over three classes a semester. Not to mention the year Cas had taken off to re-establish himself and the credits he’d lost changing schools…

“Damn,” Dean said. “That blows. Just because you wouldn’t feed your sister into the meatgrinder?”

Cas really didn’t want to say it if Dean was going to hate him for it. He never talked about it, not to Nora or Tom or anyone else he saw on a near-daily basis. Dean was different. Perhaps that was why the concept of honesty felt even more difficult. “Actually,” Cas said, deciding to bite the bullet, moving to sit up. “Because I was gay as well.”

“Oh,” Dean said, and he was definitely more surprised this time than he had been when Castiel spoke about Anna. He had that same considering look from earlier, but his posture was stiffer, more guarded.

“I hope that’s not a problem, Dean,” Cas rushed to say, regretting it all immediately. He knew how this looked, Dean in his bedroom, on his bed, drinking. “I’m not expecting anything to happen between us. Really, I would just like to be your friend.”

“Oh,” Dean said again, blinking. “Yeah, I…we can do that. Obviously.” Dean looked dazed but Castiel was far more willing to take him at his word than to interrogate his hesitation.

He closed his eyes, feeling relieved, settling back down onto the mattress next to Dean. He’d never told anyone this before, not willingly. It had actually been a tremendous risk to do so but he’d suspected on some level that he could trust Dean. For once, his instincts had been correct.

“If I’m gonna be honest…” Dean mumbled, “I’ve never had a ton of friends. Ever. I mean, other than my brother. We were always on the move when we were kids; I could never convince anyone to be my penpal.” Cas glanced over. Dean seemed embarrassed. “And Sam’s gone to school now, so…” So, Dean was alone. Just like Cas.

“If _ I’m _ going to be honest,” Castiel said, which he intended to be given that he’d gotten this far, “I’ve never had a friend outside my family either.” Dean looked back over at him, thoughtful. “Something about us being the strange religious family.”

“Man, nobody screws us up like family, huh?” Dean grinned, nudging Castiel with his shoulder. Cas couldn’t help it. He looked away and bit down a smile. It was nice, to be alone with someone else. “So, I guess that’s why you never heard about ‘Casa Blanca’, huh?”

“Secular entertainment is a distraction,” Cas said, feeling soft and happy under Dean’s eyes, especially now that Dean knew his proclivities and accepted them. He explained, perhaps a little drunk, “It’s not necessarily sinful, but it _ is _unholy. Doorways to doubt.” Dean nodded seriously.

“Well, you know what they say,” he murmured, voice deep in his throat. “When God closes a door, look for a window.” He gave Cas a grin. They were huddled near each other on Castiel’s bed.

Dean had initially held some misgivings about sharing too close of a space with Castiel, but that had long since vanished with drink. Castiel would’ve thought Dean would’ve put more room between them now that he knew Castiel was gay, but instead he orbited closer and closer. Castiel was no closer to understanding it.

He glanced back to the TV, not willing to press this any which way. Dean was attractive, with his green eyes and his leather jacket and the jewelry decorating his hands and neck, but he almost certainly was _ not _attracted to men. And if he was, he wouldn’t be attracted to Castiel. This was fine, this was more than enough. Dean’s company, even for just this one night.

Presently, Castiel left to go to the bathroom, and when he returned Dean had shifted, holding up a book. “Hey, uh, what’s this?” he asked, lifting up a paperback, browned with time, that Cas had left scattered on his nightstand. _ ‘QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter’ _Cas had read it twice before. It was nice, seeing Dean lying there, comfortable in Cas’s world, interested in it despite how frivolous it was in comparison to Dean’s.

“It’s by Richard Feynman, a physicist,” Cas smiled, delighted that Dean was enjoying the book, moving over to sit down on the bed. “It touches on quantum mechanics. You’re welcome to borrow it.”

“’M not that kind of mechanic, Cas,” Dean said, turning the book over, clearly intimidated even while he tried to write it off. Castiel had no doubt that Dean would be able to understand most of what had been written.

“It’s not too mathematical,” Cas insisted. “Please, take it.” He hesitated. “Under the condition that you return it.” Under the condition that Dean returned. Dean understood, eyes widening in comprehension, and then narrowing with his smile.

“You got it,” he promised, shutting the book with a small smirk and a wink. Cas lay back onto his bed and together they watched secular media while Cas drank until it was time for Dean to go.

*

As promised, Dean managed to visit Rexford on several more occasions. Often he’d arrive, takeout in tow, with an assortment of alcohol and movies, and they’d spend time at Cas’s place watching television and talking. Today, they’d gone out to a local bar, Dean trying to play the role of Cas’s wingman, but that hadn’t been fruitful and they eventually wandered back to Cas’s where Dean had fallen asleep, claiming Castiel’s bed.

Cas had been feeling warm and safe enough for a brief nap and upon waking discovered Dean fast asleep next to him, arm thrown over his chest, smell of beer still sweet on his breath. Dean never planned on spending the night, but a combination of drink and long-term exhaustion had obviously gotten to him. It was apparent that he’d needed the rest.

Curled up together in the dark, Cas had reached over to the channel changer to shut off the TV, and faded back into unconsciousness with Dean. He tried to not overthink it, that he and Dean were sharing a bed and that Dean was remarkably close to him. Somewhere during the night Dean had rolled over onto Cas’s side of the bed and grappled with him, waking him up.

Since then, Castiel had found it impossible to fall asleep again. He didn’t mind much. Dean’s arm cast over his chest, leg linking around his own beneath the covers…it was comfortable, and Castiel liked the intimacy of it. He was partly concerned about what Dean would say if he’d wake just now, but quietly Castiel just wanted to enjoy the moment.

Intimacy was strange…Castiel’s family had always discouraged frivolous signs of affection, but Dean was tactile, almost grabby. He’d throw an arm over Cas’s shoulder to lead him places, shining like a star. Guiding Cas through a door, he’d clap a gentle hand on his back to lead him through. Touch his arm while passing him. Castiel knew it wasn’t romantic, that Dean only had pure intentions, but Cas’s body was unused to the contact.

Even now, sharing a bed with another person—it was something Castiel had never done. As a child, Castiel had never been allowed secular friends he might have had sleepovers with, or had cause to share a bed with any of his siblings. Dean had told Castiel about how he and his brother often slept in their car growing up, sharing motel beds when they were young. Dean, of course, slept with women. He was well-acquainted with many things Cas had never experienced. This wasn’t new for him.

And still, Dean seemed to hunger for this. He touched Castiel like it brought him joy to do so, and that was even more apparent in the dark, his side pressed against Castiel’s, the crook of his arm by Cas’s jaw, his gentle breath on Cas’s shoulder coaxing shivers along Cas’s spine. It wasn’t personal, Cas knew. On Castiel’s part, perhaps it didn’t even need to be Dean for him to be this affected, this drunk on closeness to another human being. But Cas couldn’t pretend that knowing it was Dean didn’t help.

While he was worried that Dean might misread the situation, to which Cas was truly nothing but a passive participant, and reject it all—Cas included—upon waking, of course was a concern. But as Dean needed sleep, Cas suspected that Dean on some level had needed this closeness too, like Castiel. And Dean was, while rough around the edges, a gentle soul. He wouldn’t misread it, Cas hoped. They could just be gentle with one another for awhile.

Stirring from his thoughts, Cas noticed a change in Dean’s even breathing. His breaths came a little faster, a little choked. Cas turned to look at him, trying to suss Dean out in the night. In the dim lighting he could see some shadow of Dean’s expression swirling in the dark, tense and uncomfortable. Dean let out another pant and Cas chanced it, reaching over to grasp Dean by the arm, gently shaking him awake.

Dean woke up with a start, almost jumping. He looked at Castiel with wide eyes, hostile with fear. “You seemed to be having a nightmare,” Cas explained softly, apologetically, in the event that he had misread the situation. He hadn’t.

“Crap, I’m sorry, man,” Dean mumbled, disentangling himself from Castiel. He was sweating, obviously stressed, and having difficulties breathing. He sat up and so did Castiel. “Sorry, shit—I didn’t mean to wake you up, I didn’t mean to stay.” His voice was hoarse. “The booze just knocked me out, I—”

“Dean,” Cas said sternly, reaching over to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to will Dean to relax. Something about Cas’s tone seemed to work for Dean, who shut his eyes and focused on calming his breathing. Castiel heard something unzip in the dark as Dean made himself comfortable again, laying back on the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

“I—I don’t know if I can, Cas,” Dean admitted. He was hunted by monsters and clearly haunted by his memories. Cas’s throat clenched to behold the tragedy that was Dean Winchester.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked quietly, laying back down on the mattress across from Dean.

“It’s stupid,” Dean said, his hand clenching into a fist on his chest. “Wasn’t even a hunt. Listen Cas, I’m sorry for crashing, I—”

_ “Dean,” _ Cas beseeched, gripping Dean’s upper arm firmly. Dean was still for a moment, then nodded. Satisfied, Cas took his hand back, looking over Dean’s profile in the dim glow of the streetlights outside the window.

Cas wanted to reach over and touch him again, soothe away some of his worries. Only a few spare inches separated them. Dean had fortunately been too distracted by his dreams to notice how close he and Castiel had been but Cas missed the warmth of it. Still, he’d done little to provide Dean with comfort, for all his musings, and for that he felt guilty.

“I dreamt about my mom,” Dean spoke up into the darkness. “She died when I was four years old.” Cas was silent…he’d had no idea. “It’s dumb, it’s been—shit, nearly twenty years. I should be _ okay _by now.” He seemed almost ashamed to still be shaken by such a traumatic event.

“You’re human, Dean,” Cas reminded him. “Of course it would still affect you.” Cas had never had a mother per se, having been raised in the Church among siblings of various ages, but he could understand the loss of family.

“You know…she always told me angels were watching over me before I went to bed,” Dean said, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Well, I’m no angel,” Cas spoke quietly in the night. “But I can watch over you.”

“Huh. My very own guardian angel,” Dean said, and Cas could hear the smirk in his voice. “Thanks, Cas.” With no irony, Castiel wished he could be. He wished he could chase back Dean’s nightmares somehow. He wished he could hold Dean’s hand and soothe him to rest. But he suspected Dean wouldn’t be the type to accept that kind of help anyhow.

“Was I crowding you?” Dean asked, as though he were shy, realizing for the first time how close they had become. “Sorry, man.” He sounded embarrassed, and Castiel thought better than reassuring him lest he call more attention to it. A little defensively, Dean added, “At least I’m not Sam; he kicks in his sleep and he’s tall as a tree. But I can sleep on the floor if you want.” Cas didn’t.

“Go back to sleep, Dean,” he murmured. It was a promise. He could faintly see Dean nod in the dark, shift over on the bed. Sleepy and warm, his guard was down and shame forgotten; he moved his way over to Castiel’s side, solid and electrifyingly real in his closeness. He hadn’t minded that they’d been touching.

Presently, Dean’s breathing evened out until Cas knew he was sleeping again. Then, Cas turned back to sleep as well. He awoke the next day to an empty apartment and a cup of coffee brewed to perfection. He recognized the thanks for what it was.


	2. the heavy heart I’m holding

Nora had gone home early again today, leaving Castiel alone to take stock of inventory and prepare the food. It was a quiet afternoon, a few cars came and went but fewer people came inside the Gas-N-Sip. With Nora’s absence, Cas would have free reign to read his textbook, relatively guilt-free, once he’d done all his work.

It was shaping up to be an ordinary night when once again, Dean walked into Castiel’s life, set on ensuring it to be anything but. “I’ll have some jerky and a pack of menthols,” he grinned.

“Dean!” Cas blinked, surprised, unsure what Dean was doing here. Still, “It’s good to see you.” Dean’s smile broadened but fell to confusion as Cas stirred behind the counter, getting a pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?” Cas asked. Dean didn’t smell like a smoker but Castiel couldn’t assume.

“No,” Dean said, balking, holding out his hand. “I just, uh—stopped by to say hi. And get some gas.”

Castiel realized Dean had been joking. Of course. “How many gallons?” he asked, feeling a little off-kilter for misreading Dean, setting down the cigarettes and moving towards the till.

“No, I uh—already got it outside,” Dean said, jerking his thumb towards the door. The silence that followed was awkward. Dean coughed.

“There was a Bigfoot sighting in Oregon,” he explained, running his hand through his hair. “So, I was passing through, figured I’d drop in.” Cas glanced around, making sure they were truly alone. He leaned over the till.

“You’re saying _ Bigfoot _exists.”

“Well,” Dean said reservedly. “My dad says there’s no such thing.” Ah.

“And you say…” Cas trailed off. Dean smirked.

“Can’t be too careful,” he concluded, almost laughing. A feeling of incredible warmth swept through Cas’s chest and he had to keep himself from smiling too widely.

“This is okay, right?” Dean asked seriously. “Me, uh…harassing you at work?” Nora wasn’t around, and neither were any other customers.

“You’re a customer,” Cas said. Dean had filled up his tank, after all.

“I am,” Dean agreed, voice rich with humour. “And it’s your job to service me, ain’t that right, Cas?” The way he said it made it sound like a dirty joke.

“Right,” Cas said. Dean cleared his throat and looked away.

“Awesome,” he said. “So, yeah. Here I am.” He held out his hands to demonstrate. Castiel was happy to see Dean, as surprised as he was, but he wasn’t really sure what to say. “So, Cas,” Dean went on, grinning lecherously over the counter. “When do you get off?”

“I’m closing tonight,” Cas said. Dean liked going out for dinner or to a bar with Cas, but Castiel would be too tired by the end of the day to even watch movies. On the nights he closed he’d usually go straight to bed. “Sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have come inside,” Dean disagreed, leaning back. He looked very nice today, clean and freshly shaven. He was apologetic. “You’re working.”

“Hardly,” Cas joked, leaning in conspiratorially. Customers made that joke often. Dean raised an eyebrow. He didn’t find it very funny either.

While Castiel didn’t understand why Dean would visit him, it was clear that he’d been hoping for more than this. “I’m just sorry I can’t…be more engaged,” Cas said. While it was true that Castiel would rather spend time with Dean than work, he couldn’t exactly leave his post.

“No way, man,” Dean insisted. “It’s, uh…I should’ve called beforehand. I just barely justified the gas money to my dad.” So, Dean had taken an interest in this Bigfoot case on impulse. Still, Dean’s calls ahead had often been received by other Gas-N-Sip employees before Castiel, resulting in Castiel being teased for his alleged boyfriend. In some ways, it was better Dean come without warning.

“You’ll have to tell me the outcome,” Cas said. It would be such a wrench in what Castiel had been taught of God’s design if Bigfoot turned out to be real and some sort of evolutionary relative to humans. Even if Bigfoot was just a very tall, very hairy man, Cas would love for Dean to tell him.

Dean smirked. “Yeah, I guess I could pass through Idaho on my way back.” He looked awkwardly at Cas. “I guess I’ll…get on that, then.” Castiel really didn’t want him to leave but he couldn’t ask Dean to stay either. Castiel didn’t have anything to do in the hours between now and closing other than tending to the store. He’d intended to read and he was sure Dean didn’t want to stick around for that. Cas nodded reluctantly as Dean moved to go.

“I just had a question about the book you lent me,” Dean suddenly burst out. He pulled out the Feynman book from his jacket as Cas turned back to look at him.

Cas would love to answer any questions Dean had but, “I sincerely doubt I could explain it better than Feynman himself.”

“It’s pretty friggin’ stupid, Cas,” Dean warned him seriously. Cas smiled. Dean wanted to stay.

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question,” he said warmly, echoing so many of the professors Castiel had had over the years.

“I’m about to prove you wrong,” Dean said, looking a little embarrassed. He tossed _ The Strange Theory of Light and Matter _ on the till counter. “Okay, so this guy just, uh…he just kind of assumes that you already know some stuff, you know? He’s actually kind of funny but…I’m kinda thrown about some of the terminology. I figured getting you to explain it to me would be easier than…going to the friggin’ library like I’m some virgin.”

Castiel understood. Physics, and indeed most upper-level science, built upon pre-established principles. Cas grabbed a pen and some printer paper, just in case Dean needed him to draw some diagrams. Dean looked faintly embarrassed, but Cas nodded encouragingly. “So, I didn’t take physics in high school,” Dean explained. It clearly wasn’t easy for Dean to ask Castiel questions, but he wanted to understand.

“Neither did I,” Cas said to comfort him. The members of Cas’s congregation had been home-schooled and thus taught the very bare minimum, especially of the sciences. He’d had to go back and take the course to get into the physics program, of course, but he said it so that Dean would know that anyone could understand physics given time and effort.

“Cas, I didn’t finish high school,” Dean admitted. And he was obviously flushed now. Castiel had known that Dean lived an unorthodox lifestyle, but he had to hide his surprise. Dean pressed on, “I mean, I got my GED after Sam got into Stanford but. I dunno.” He seemed genuinely upset. “I’m not really built for this.”

It was clear that Dean felt insecure and perhaps even humiliated broaching these topics, likely finding it preferable to ignore the gaps in his knowledge than to feel stupid acknowledging they existed. But Dean was intelligent and Castiel had wanted a reason, any reason, to talk to him.

“Dean, people don’t become physicists because it’s easy,” Cas said. Physics was difficult due to both the math required as well as the concepts involved.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, a small smile teasing his lips. “Alright, why do people do physics, Einstein?” The way Dean was looking at Cas made Cas feel shy and understood. Cas looked down at the blank paper he’d placed on the counter. People became physicists because physics was beautiful.

“Cliché as this may be, studying physics, I feel as though I’m coming to know God,” he said, and his voice came out a little choked because he didn’t often speak about why he loved physics. No one had really asked him. Cas amended, for Dean, “The universe, whatever is the preferred term.” Dean grinned, but the look in his eyes was kind.

“Wow, you’re a bigger nerd than I thought,” he said. It was an insult, but from Dean’s mouth it didn’t feel insulting. Dean leaned up against the counter, putting the book down next to Cas. “Okay Doc,” he said, settling in. “What the hell is a photomultiplier tube…” Cas smiled.

He answered Dean’s questions, most of which were very insightful, and Dean leaned up against the counter, listening.Together they went through the introduction and first lecture, and Dean helped Castiel stock shelves and with customer service when a few customers came by. Time was relative, so to speak, and it dwindled itself away as they talked and laughed, Dean leaving only once to buy the two of them dinner. After Castiel’s shift ended, Dean drove him home and left the state with a promise. 

*

One day at the cusp of early winter, after what seemed to be a depressingly unsuccessful hunt, Dean dropped by and immediately fallen asleep, uncaring about sharing the bed. Given that Dean had yet to tire of visiting, Castiel had half a mind to save up for another bed or a couch or at least an inflatable mattress but Dean was insistent that Castiel get a proper phone before anything else.

There was also the fact that Castiel liked sharing a space with Dean, so Dean casting himself onto Cas’s bed was the least of Castiel’s problems. Friendship, intimacy, with another person was apparently something Castiel had sorely needed. Nora said he was acting happier at work and seemed more relaxed after Dean came to town. Ironically, despite the time spent not studying, he was getting better scores on quizzes than he normally would.

There were things Cas knew now, approaching the end of this semester. He understood differential geometry and tensor analysis intimately, he had memorized as many interpretations of quantum behaviours accessible to an undergrad. He knew Dean’s favourite movies, his bands of choice, the make and model of Dean’s car—a 1967 Chevy Impala—and that Dean loved pie because it reminded him of his mother. Castiel knew enough yet was hungry for more.

Cas had always had a talent for solitude, but he wasn’t built to be alone. No one was—while emotions weren’t encouraged in the Church, even then there had been a sense of camaraderie that had lacked in Cas’s life since he’d left. It had been just enough to subsist on, though Castiel had managed just fine without it and wouldn’t say he preferred it to the casual friendship he had with Dean.

One week, the stars aligned and Castiel got a long weekend off—four days in a row. That seemed to Castiel like the perfect opportunity to spend some time with Dean, if he was available—and catch up on his studying, of course. The moment he saw the schedule he wasted no time giving Dean a call.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, able to recognize the Gas-N-Sip’s number by now.

“Dean, next week I’ll have four days off,” Cas said. “I wasn’t certain but, if you have the opportunity, we can go to Rexford’s Christmas parade.” Cas flushed then, feeling foolish for suggesting that. “Or…drink.” Dean liked drinking.

Dean let out an indecipherable groaning noise on the other end. “Sorry, Cas, wrapped up with this stupid case in Kansas City,” he said regretfully. “Dunno how long it’ll take.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas sighed. Very rarely did he get that many days in a row off. “I could come and visit you,” he offered.

“What, _ Cas, _ I’m not going to make you do that,” Dean fretted, but he didn’t sound _ completely _opposed to the idea.

“It’s no trouble,” Cas said. “I have nothing to do those days. Perhaps I can even help you with your hunt.” Dean’s sigh came out harsh and staticky on the other end.

_ “Definitely _ not,” he said. “But…okay, why not. I’ll spot you for your tickets and we can finish up the Star Wars prequel. I’m telling you, man, it’s _ not _good, but you know. Next one’s coming out in May so it’s probably worth being caught up for.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas enthused, and he could hear Dean chuckle on the other end.

“I knew you were a closet geek waiting to happen,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Sounds like you’re more of a Star Wars fan than Sam.” In all honesty, Cas had just been interested in the implication that they would watch the new film together.

“Sam likes Star Wars?” Cas asked, trying the name of Dean’s brother out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean said, grunting like he was leaning back somewhere, making himself more comfortable. “Liked them, at least. Dude’s Luke to a T. We watched the originals when we were kids. I dunno if he’s seen the new one. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

“You recommended it to me,” Cas pointed out.

“Yeah, we’ll see if you like it,” Dean said, sounding skeptical. Castiel didn’t understand why Dean would recommend him something he didn’t personally enjoy, but he also didn’t want to tell Dean to stop. If it meant going to a movie with Dean, he didn’t care.

“I like…spending time with you,” Cas offered. He heard Dean laugh.

“Same, buddy,” he said. Cas grinned idiotically into the receiver. “I’ve had more fun with you in the past few months than I’ve had with Sam in—I’ve just spent so much of my life worrying about the guy. But he’s _ good _ . _ I’m _good.” He sounded happy, but Cas wasn’t sure that he could completely believe him. Still, he took the victory.

“I’ll see you soon, Dean,” he promised.

“See you, Cas,” Dean agreed, and Castiel could hear the smile in his voice from miles away.

*

A few days later, Castiel found himself in Missouri. After touching down, he called Dean from a payphone and was given an address. Cas hadn’t thought to ask Dean to pick him up and had arrived when the sun had already started to set, so, not feeling like wandering alone in a strange city, he hired a cab and fretted about his bank account.

The motel Dean was staying at fortunately wasn’t far, and Castiel could have walked, but still he thanked the driver and gingerly pulled his bags along with him. He walked up the steps of the motel, dilapidated and cast in darkness, filled with some trepidation. He felt a rush of relief to recognize Dean’s room number. He knocked on the door.

He heard someone move inside the room. “Who is it?” a gruff voice called out through the door.

“I…” Cas said a little nervously. He hoped he’d gotten the right room. “It’s Castiel?” He heard the door unlatch and the occupant peer out. “Dean,” Cas grinned. Dean met him with an expression that matched the warmth Cas felt to see him—but it was surprised as well, as though he hadn’t expected Cas to really come.

“Hey Cas,” he said, leaning out his door to throw his arms over Cas’s shoulder and grasp him in a hug. Cas couldn’t hug him back, given that his hands were otherwise occupied, but he appreciated it nevertheless. “It’s good to see you, man!” Dean looked to his left and right before inviting Castiel inside.

The height of luxury, there were two beds and Cas set his suitcase down on one of them. It was fairly warm in the motel room, so he stripped off his trench coat, placing it on a chair next to the bed. He was actually quite tired. “I didn’t bring any of your tapes,” he admitted. In his stress and haste to arrive, he’d forgotten them back in Idaho.

“That’s okay, we can just watch cable,” Dean said, getting on the bed Cas had claimed and patting it as though to invite him to sit. He winked. “Pay-per-view.” Cas obeyed, settling down comfortably with a sigh. He noticed Dean shift next to him, holding his ribs.

“You’re hurt!” Cas noticed, looking down at Dean’s abdomen and noticing the injury for the first time.

“Hazards of the job,” Dean winced. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Nora made me get First Aid training,” Cas said firmly, getting off the bed and going to the bathroom, locating the kit behind the mirror.

“Cas, I’m fine, I swear!” Dean called. Cas gritted his teeth, digging through the kit for the essentials. Dean had really planned on pretending he wasn’t hurt. Cas returned to the bedroom and Dean was sitting upright, still clutching his stomach and feigning health. “Cas, seriously.”

“Let me help you, Dean,” Cas said, and his voice came out deeper and more dangerous than he’d expected.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Okay, _ okay, _ Jesus,” he relented, turning around on the bed to fumble with his shirt. Cas heard Dean unzip something, and then Dean leaned back on the bed, looking a little flustered. His shirt was bunched up around his chest, and Cas could see Dean’s stomach was covered in scratches and ugly purpling bruises.

Dean seemed nervous to have Castiel touching his bare stomach, if the way he avoided Cas’s eyes and his tense breathing was anything to go by. Castiel was taking no pleasure in this, however, and he would’ve felt offended if he wasn’t so worried. “What happened?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed, rucking up his shirt further. “It’s dumb,” he said. “S’got nothing to do with the hunt. It’s _ fine.” _ He didn’t want to talk about it. That was alright. Castiel made him hold his shirt up as he carefully disinfected Dean’s wounds, relieved to see they were mostly superficial.

After cleaning Dean’s injuries, he took out bandages to cover the deeper wounds. After which, he went over to the minibar to pull out an ice pack to press onto Dean’s side. Dean watched Cas work quietly, only making sounds of complaint when Cas got alcohol into Dean’s wounds or pressed too hard onto his bruises. Cas was as gentle with Dean as he could be.

When he was satisfied, he got back into the bed with Dean, and gingerly pulled Dean’s shirt back over his abdomen. Dean shifted uncomfortably, flipping over onto his uninjured side, away from Castiel. “I appreciate you playing Dr. Sexy, Cas,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder at Castiel. Doctor what? Cas must have made a face because Dean closed his eyes, as though he was exasperated with Castiel, or himself. Dean cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Cas settled back, placated. “You don’t have to hide these things from me, Dean,” he murmured. This was a part of Dean’s life. Cas didn’t think it was anything to be ashamed of so he didn’t know why Dean would hide it.

“I was gonna take care of it later,” Dean tried explaining. He really would have feigned health until Cas stopped paying attention to him. Dean sat up on the bed a bit, adjusting his shirt. Cas didn’t chase him, settling deeper into rest.

“I’m glad you let me take care of it now,” he replied, feeling drowsy from his trip and the sheer bliss of relieved stress.

“Long trip, Cas?” Dean asked, and Castiel could have sworn he sounded fond. It had taken Cas everything to get here. In answer, he let his eyes drift shut, and promptly fell asleep to the thought that both he and Dean were safe, and together.

*

Cas woke up later the next day in an empty but warm bed. In the morning, or rather, lunchtime, Dean took Castiel to a diner. Dean ordered pancakes and Cas settled on eggs benedict, though Dean did let Castiel steal some of his food when the eggs turned out too greasy.

“I’m sorry for falling asleep last night,” Cas apologized. Dean wouldn’t hear any of it.

“I was pretty pooched yesterday too,” he said. “We both caught up on some rest, no biggie.” He smiled wide, corners of his eyes crinkling. Cas pricked on the topic with interest.

“Was your hunt tiring?” he asked. Dean didn’t say anything. “Tell me about it.” Dean sighed, smile dropping.

“Not much to tell,” he said, sticking one of his pancakes with his fork. “We think there’s a vampire in this city. Or well, we _ hope _because the other option is one real sick son of a bitch. Me and my dad spent yesterday destroying potential nests.”

“Was it a problem that I spent the night?” Cas asked. “If there are vampires?”

“Nah, my dad’s on it,” Dean said. “I—uh, nearly got my ass handed to me by a homeless guy so I’ve been, uh, benched for now.” Cas raised an eyebrow. “Listen, if it was a funny story I’d tell it,” Dean grumbled, clearly embarrassed. “Anyway, if it’s a vamp, our motel room is safe.”

“Where is your father?” Cas asked curiously.

“Hunting,” Dean said, digging into his pancakes and avoiding Cas’s eye. “He’ll come back when the job’s over.”

“That’s why there were two beds,” Cas realized.

“No, I—” Dean coughed. “I had to find a new place to stay, and since you were coming I sprung for the extra bed. You’re welcome.” He’d ended up sleeping by Castiel’s side all the same.

“What happened to your old room?” Cas asked.

“I’m tellin’ you, Cas,” Dean said, eyes hard though the look wasn’t directed at Castiel. “It’s not a funny story.” Cas nodded. Whatever had happened, it seemed to Cas that Dean’s father had been angry enough to kick Dean out. “Anyway,” Dean said. “He knows where I’m at, it’s fine.”

“He kicked you out,” Cas stated.

“I was being a dumbass,” Dean said. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I’m just…more of a liability with him right now. But hey, worked out for us, right?” Cas settled back, feeling vaguely angry at Dean’s father.

“I suppose,” he said, knowing he sounded sulky.

“He just took me off the case,” Dean said, putting a reassuring hand on Cas’s arm. “He didn’t kick me out. Alright?” He thought Cas was being oversensitive because of his own experiences with his family. And perhaps he was right, but Cas couldn’t help but feel that the situations were not as different as Dean thought they were.

Still, Cas was surprised at how emotionally intelligent and thoughtful Dean could be. The two of them had become adept at reading between each other’s lines. Cas shifted in his seat to pick at his breakfast a little more, before pushing it over for Dean to finish. Dean moved his hand off of Cas, and the cold air that replaced it was unpleasant.

“Not to play angel’s advocate, Cas,” Dean spoke up, helping Cas’s plate over to his side of the table. “I know Christians can be dicks, but most of ‘em are decent.” Cas sighed. Dean was referring to Castiel and Anna’s excommunication.

“To be fair, my family doesn’t really represent the standard Christian,” he said, accepting the change in topic. When talking to potential converts, which Dean was not, proselytizers typically wouldn’t start with this point, but Castiel thought it was fair to note, “Our denomination believes quite strongly that the end of the world is nigh.”

“What, _ seriously?” _ Dean asked, dropping his fork on the plate with a clatter. Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean’s strong reaction.

“It doesn’t seem as though we’re wrong,” he replied. “Monsters, ghosts, these things are all real.” He of course hadn’t seen evidence until recently, but meeting Dean, seeing what Dean did for a living, was making Castiel re-evaluate his place in the world. “The climate is getting warmer, the ozone layer is depleting. Wars. Disease. Even America isn’t safe from destruction…You could ask anyone on the street if they thought the world is ending, and they’d agree.”

“Yeah, but not tomorrow, not in our lifetime,” Dean said, stunned. He added, crudely, “You know, it’s pretty dumb that your family thinks the world’s gonna end but they’re getting on your case for liking dick.” Dean certainly had a way with words. Still, Castiel understood why his family had been concerned, why they had gone to the lengths that they had for him and Anna.

“All the more reason to care about the state of my eternal soul,” he pointed out.

“Wait, Cas, you’re not telling me you…” Dean started, raising his hands. “You actually believe in this crap? God, angels, all that?” Cas couldn’t help but smile at his belligerence.

“Yes, I actually believe in this crap,” he replied dryly. Dean raised his eyebrows, pouting slightly. “I believe in the Bible, and the Bible did foretell the end of the world.” Dean still looked at Castiel like he was crazy. And it was strange to consider. “You deal with supernatural evil every day, and yet you don’t believe in supernatural good?”

“The moment you give me proof, I’m your man,” Dean said, settling back. Well, Castiel couldn’t give him that. And he wasn’t asking anything of Dean either.

“Everything ends, Dean,” he said.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Dean fretted. “You’re not surprised I don’t, though. Believe.” He was talking about religion.

Cas looked Dean over appraisingly, who seemed to stir awkwardly under the attention. And he wasn’t. “No, somehow I didn’t get the sense you were a child of God,” Cas said. Dean snickered. He liked it when Castiel was sarcastic.

“Well, as long as you don’t try to save my lack of soul, we’re square,” he said.

“I don’t think my church would trust me to do that properly,” Cas said. He leaned in a little, Dean’s eyes lit up with interest. Castiel stole a pancake off his plate. “Without corrupting you.” Dean made a choking noise and Cas leaned back, a little satisfied. “I could give my old pastor a call, if you’d like.”

Dean laughed. “Thanks, but that’s a pass from me,” he said, smiling a little, eyes light. “Although, bet I could go for a little bit of corrupting. You’re a regular bad boy, Cas.”

Cas smiled to himself. “That I am,” he agreed. Dean was joking, but he didn’t know how right he actually was. Dean was quiet for a moment, still looking at Cas, and Cas met his gaze. As though he couldn’t bear Cas’s stare, Dean’s eyeline ducked to Cas’s mouth, and then away entirely as he turned to finish off Cas’s breakfast.

“I can respect what you believe, Cas, even if I think its nuts,” he said, smiling a little as he pushed what remained of his pancakes around on his plate. Cas noticed a muscle flicker in his jaw as the smile faded. “It’s just that…my mom always talked about angels and she was killed by a demon. So, I have a hard time believing that anyone’s watching out for us but…_us.” _ He glanced over at Castiel, then away again.

Castiel hadn’t realized the extent of Dean’s tragedy…that she hadn’t simply passed, but that she had been taken. It put him into perspective. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Dean,” he said quietly. Dean looked across at him, eyes wide with something unreadable.

“I—” he started, then he looked away. “It was a long time ago. But thanks, I guess.” He blinked a few times, clearing his throat, and flagged down the waitress for their bill.

*

Really, Cas thought, for all the times Dean dropped by Idaho, Cas owed him more money for gas than Dean owed him for the trip. But, he thought better than to call attention to it. It wasn’t…typical, Cas thought, this sort of arrangement. But he’d never had a friend like Dean, so who was he to say what was normal? He enjoyed Dean’s company and Dean, it seemed, enjoyed his. All was well.

They walked outside on the streets quietly after dinner, hands in their respective pockets, admiring the town. “I don’t typically have time to sight-see, Cas,” Dean admitted. “I can’t be much of a tour guide.”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Cas reminded Dean; he didn’t need Dean to entertain him. Dean let out a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” he said. “Well. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

They continued to walk down the streets of Kansas City, peering in shops and bars as they passed. One place they walked by Cas noticed some odd pictures in the window of muscular, scantily clad men. It was a gay bar, Cas realized. He looked at the place with some hunger, at the neon sign and at the men traipsing in and out. One man eyed him and Dean with some reservation as they passed, likely trying to determine if Cas’s interest was a threat. Cas looked away and Dean cleared his throat as they walked.

“Cas I’m uh…transgender,” Dean spoke up after awhile. He seemed nervous, but he glanced over at Cas, a little laugh in his throat, “Do you even know what that is?” Cas shook his head, not willing to embarrass himself by guessing. It seemed important.

“Okay I’ll put it like this—years before I was the handsome young man you see before you today, I was…” Dean started, preening. But his face quickly fell as he concluded, “I was a girl, Cas.”

The confusion must have shown on Cas’s face because Dean hastened to continue, “I’m on hormones, and I flatten my chest but I’m, uh…not really the average guy. You read me?” Cas couldn’t help but look Dean over, to try to determine if Dean was joking. But Dean looked serious.

Cas tried to see it. He didn’t know where to start, and realized he didn’t care to follow that line of thinking anyhow. Clearly, Dean was uncomfortable, and it wasn’t any of Castiel’s business. There was a lot about the world Cas had never been taught, so while he hadn’t expected this, in some ways it was more surprising that Dean would confess to it. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” Cas settled on.

“It’s, uh—it doesn’t change anything, right?” Dean asked, tugging on the amulet around his neck nervously.

“What would it change?” Cas asked, a little confused.

“God, I don’t know,” Dean said, letting go of his necklace to rub the palm of his hand across his face, stressed. “I don’t like telling people about that. I just wanna put it all behind me. Like, you knowing this isn’t…going to make you see me as a girl, right?”

So that was his concern. “If that’s your history, then it’s a history I’m flattered to learn,” Cas said carefully. “But it’s your present I’m dealing with, Dean. And it’s your future I—I would like to be part of.” That was perhaps a touch too bold and Castiel wasn’t sure that he’d spoken clearly enough for Dean.

“I—” Dean said, eyes wide. Then they settled into something lazy with relief. “Yeah. Sure. Damn, I thought I’d have to convince you I don’t deserve to burn in Hell for—denying God’s plan for me or whatever.” He scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk idly as they walked. The thought had clearly weighed heavily on him.

“I have a difficult time believing someone like you would ever end up in Hell,” Cas confessed.

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean laughed, leaning in to press his shoulder against Cas’s. He raised an eyebrow, smiling dazzlingly. “I smoke, I drink, I covet. I’m pretty much ten for ten for the Commandments.”

“You’re a good man,” Castiel disagreed, even if he knew that it was hard for Dean to see it. “A better man than me.”

“Well thanks Cas, I knew I was stabbing a needle in my leg twice a month for a reason,” Dean snickered to himself.

He seemed so much freer after telling Cas, and Cas didn’t know why. Castiel had felt relieved to tell Dean that he was gay without having Dean reject his friendship, but only now could Castiel see how much lighter Dean was. It seemed that Dean carried a lot that he didn’t have to.

“I’m a coward, Dean,” Castiel admitted. “I watched my family mistreat my sister and I did nothing to help her.” Dean frowned.

“Listen you…” he started. “Sometimes, you’re in a crap situation and you—you have to pick your battles. You couldn’t help her because you were looking out for yourself.”

“Exactly,” Cas said. “You wouldn’t do that. You would prioritize your brother.” Dean looked pained, like he wanted to argue.

He took a breath. “When Sam left, Dad told him not to come back,” he said. “And I just…let Sam walk. I was mad, because he got to leave and go to school, and I had to stay and hunt. And I mean, I love hunting, and I know it’s the right thing to do. But me and Sam, we haven’t spoken in…man, we’ve barely spoken since.”

That was surprising, for how much love and pride Dean radiated when speaking about his brother. “Do you regret that?” Cas asked. Dean shifted in his seat.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think Sam wants to talk to me. We made our choices,” he said. He added, speaking soft and low, like he was confessing, “For a long time I didn’t want to talk to him either. I felt like—I felt like he was being selfish. But you know what. Screw it, you know? We only live once.”

He set his jaw and turned his gaze on Cas, accusing. “_ You _ think we’re going to die tomorrow! Why _ not _ be selfish? Why do _ I _ have to constantly be sacrificing my—” he cut himself off. Dean seemed to regret his words.

“I don’t think Anna would like to speak to me either,” Cas spoke up softly, wishing he could take Dean’s hand and give him comfort. Dean sighed heavily. “But then, I haven’t done much to try.” Anna, as far as Castiel could remember, actually lived in Kansas now, not far from here. He had her number, he’d just never used it. Dean nodded, understanding, and they kept walking together.

*

They settled back at the motel with an early dinner, getting out of the cold and making themselves comfortable on one of the beds as they idly spoke about nonsense and watched a hospital-based soap opera on cable. Dean regaled Cas with some tales of more successful hunts, but Cas suspected that he enjoyed talking to Cas about normal, mindless things even more. Cas was interested either way, and Dean seemed all the more pleased for that.

They’d gotten Chinese food and while Castiel was trying his hand at chopsticks, Dean had settled with the takeout container propped on his stomach, digging through his noodles with a plastic fork. They’d claimed Cas’s bed given that it was closer to the TV. If Cas had an ounce of self-preservation, he would’ve moved to Dean’s bed but, calling it stubbornness, he decided that given that they were on _ his _ bed it was on _ Dean _ to move…_if _he wanted to. Apparently, Dean didn’t. And Cas delighted in it.

“So, got any plans for tomorrow?” Dean asked, stuffing his mouth full of chow mein. The sun had set outside and while there were more hours in the day left to watch, or rather ignore, the television, they had plans to make for the next day. Cas couldn’t help but smile a little to himself, shifting his fried rice in his lap.

“Perhaps we could find a tourism pamphlet,” he offered.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “We don’t need to limit ourselves, either. We can leave Kansas City.” Cas nodded, silent. He could tell Dean that simply watching TV in a hotel room with him was enjoyable. “Unless you think hanging out all day in bed with me sounds like a good time,” Dean joked, as though he’d read Cas’s mind, inclining his head to grin at Cas. Cas wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Anything, Dean,” he decided. Castiel wasn’t choosy when it came to Dean. Dean’s laughter settled into something more thoughtful. He pushed his noodles around, not quite looking at Cas.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I…same.” He looked back over at Cas and his eyes betrayed something Cas didn’t know what to call. But the emotion held Castiel firmly, and Cas felt that Dean must have been as lonely as Cas had been all these years. But this was more than that, Cas thought, different, because Dean started to lean into Cas’s space and Cas was turning to meet him. Dean, moving onto Cas’s side of the bed, saying, “Cas, I—”

There was a knock at the door. Dean got to his feet immediately, shifting out of softness and into the stance of a soldier. Without a moment’s hesitation, he went over to his bed, still made from the day before, and took a gun out from beneath the pillow, jaw clenched. He paced to the door and Cas sat up, pushing his meal aside, uncertain of what he was expected to do in such a situation.

“Who is it?” Dean asked through gritted teeth.

_ “Kashmir,” _came the reply. Dean let out a tense sigh of relief and pulled open the door.

“How’d it go?” he asked, eyes wide, welcoming the stranger inside.

“It was a vampire,” the man replied. “Operative term: _ was.” _ Dean let out another sigh. The man laughed. “You gettin’ worried?” Dean puffed out his chest.

“Hell no,” he said. The man laughed some more, shifting the pack slung around his shoulder around as he walked further into the motel room.

“Who’s your friend, Dean?” the man asked, looking straight through Castiel.

“Uh, this is Cas,” Dean said, straightening out his posture. Cas tried to guess if he was supposed to get up too but Dean wouldn’t look at him.

“Castiel,” Cas concluded, sitting up and looking over at the strange man. He had a number of years on Dean, but they looked similar. Ah. “You’re Dean’s father.”

That seemed to make the man relax ever so slightly. He even cracked a smile. “Yup,” he said. “Trust my boy’s not been getting you in too much trouble?”

“Oh,” Cas laughed a little. “None that’s not welcome.” Dean still seemed stressed, eyes darting between his friend and his father. Cas frowned, looking over to the door. “Should I…”

“Nah, take a load off,” the man dismissed Cas’s worries. “Name’s John.” He reached over for Cas to shake his hand. It was a firm shake. “So…Castiel. Funny name. You a hunter?”

“I, ah—” Cas started.

“We met a couple of cases ago,” Dean interrupted. “Back in Idaho. Ghosts.” Cas smiled in recollection.

“Dean told me he was a researcher of the paranormal,” he offered. “That the two of you were writing a book.” John raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he’s not exactly wrong,” he said, glancing over at his son. Dean laughed, a little nervously. John settled down onto the bed across from Castiel. Only Castiel’s bed hadn’t been made, since Dean had clambered onto his mattress. John yanked at the sheets to make himself a little more comfortable, a small frown playing on his lips. He glanced over at Castiel.

“I’ve uh—been showing Cas the secular classics,” Dean explained. “He had a really weird religious upbringing. Didn’t drink coffee till he was twenty-six.” John raised an eyebrow.

“That so?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. “What is it you do, Castiel?”

“I’m a sales associate,” Cas admitted, knowing it wasn’t exactly impressive.

“So,” John said. “You’re _ not _a hunter.”

Cas looked over at Dean, whose face was tense but betrayed no clue as to what Castiel should say. “I’m also a student,” Cas offered. “Physics.” He decided not to say he was still an undergraduate, but it didn't matter.

“Pardon, Castiel,” John said. “I need a word with my son outside.” Cas could do nothing but nod and watch Dean file from the room behind his father.

_ “He’s not a hunter?” _ Cas could hear John hiss once they were out of sight. The door wasn’t shut; that would imply that they trusted Castiel alone. _ “What the hell are you doing, Dean, dragging a civilian into this life?” _

_ “Other than Idaho, I haven’t taken him into the field,” _ Dean volleyed back.

_ “Then what the hell are you _ doing _ with him, Dean?” _ John muttered. He sounded disappointed and—almost repulsed. If they were trying to be subtle, it really wasn’t working because Cas could hear them as clear as if they’d been arguing directly in front of him. But it didn’t matter, because Dean fell silent. _ “Does he even know about you?” _

_ “Yes, he does,” _ Dean replied. John was quiet for a moment. “Jesus _ Dad, I _ told _ him.” _Dean sounded disgusted. Cas looked down at his suitcase. He’d barely had time to unpack, so this would be easy.

_ “Listen, son, less people get involved with what we do, the safer the world is,” _ John said, getting back on track. _ “Not to mention there was a vampire in town, knowing you and I were gunning after her. You two worked together in Idaho, that’s great, but you know how this ends.” _

There was silence. Then Dean, resigned, muttered a quick, _ “Yes sir.” _There was to be no argument. Dean and John turned back into the motel room.

“So, Castiel, you stayin’ the night?” John asked, looking over the room given there were only two beds.

“Actually, I thought if I could catch the six o’clock bus I’d be able to get home tonight,” Cas improvised, imbued with the special ability of knowing when he wasn’t wanted. He could think on his feet. “Dean, could you drive me to the station?” Dean glanced at his father, who shrugged.

*

Dean drove Castiel in complete silence. Cas had his suitcase propped up on his lap, hugging it to his chest, feeling small and lost. With Dean’s eyes on the road, Cas took the opportunity to look Dean over, at the tawny streetlights crossing his face in the night.

Castiel had never had a father in the traditional sense. He had been one adoptee among his many siblings, and nothing had ever felt amiss about that. They had all been called to and created for a joint purpose—to serve God and fight against Lucifer in the battle to come. Of course, Castiel had been…disobedient, like Lucifer, and had likewise fallen. He could understand why Dean wanted to please his father.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered suddenly as he took a left turn over to another street. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” He stuttered a bitter laugh. “Dad’s right. You and me—you’re better off forgetting I exist.”

Castiel felt desperate. “I hope you don’t feel that way,” he said, trying not to let his voice crack. “I certainly don’t.”

The thought of forgetting Dean was unbearable. It would’ve been right, perhaps, for Cas to forget all the men he’d seen over the years, the ones who had poured some sort of inspiration into the empty broken part of his structure, those who had unwittingly tricked him into feeling whole, into forgetting his own brokenness. But Castiel couldn’t stand it. No one could ask him to forget Dean, not even Dean himself.

Dean glanced over at Cas, frowning, but turned his eyes back to the road. They weren’t far from the bus station at all, and Castiel had just this time to convince him. It was unfair that Dean would be guilted about dragging Castiel into a life of danger by the man who had dragged Dean, his child, into that very life, but Castiel expected bringing up that point would do little to make Dean side against his father. He could only appeal to Dean.

“Since you’ve…come into my life, you’ve done little but improve it,” he murmured.

“Christ, Cas,” Dean sighed. “You must’ve had a pretty crappy life.” He meant it as to downplay his involvement in Castiel’s world, but it was true.

“I did,” Cas said as earnestly as he could. Dean didn’t say anything to that. Castiel didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want Dean to feel obligated to him, and he certainly didn’t want to come between Dean and his father. Cas watched a muscle beneath Dean’s cheekbone work.

There was really nothing Cas could do that would change Dean’s mind about the two of them. Castiel recognized the way John spoke to Dean. John spoke to Dean like a soldier. There wasn’t room to question orders, and this had been an order. Whether John had picked up on Cas’s orientation, Cas couldn’t say. But it was clear, at least to Castiel, that the reason why Dean couldn’t have a male friend, even casually, was not for Castiel’s benefit.

They arrived at the bus station. Cas had about twenty minutes to spare, he knew, and on any other day he knew Dean would have waited the time with him. Any other day Dean would have driven him back to Idaho. But today, Dean fumbled with his wallet to reimburse Castiel for the money spent getting here and back. Cas took the money, feeling a little sick.

Standing outside the car, Castiel wasn’t willing to say goodbye. “Dean, wait,” Cas said, before he could drive off. Dean paused and let Cas lean down into the passenger’s window. He wasn’t looking at Cas and Cas just felt…incredibly sad all of a sudden. Not for himself, but for the line of stress in Dean’s shoulders and the glassiness of his eyes.

“You told me once that you didn’t have many friends in your line of work,” Cas said carefully—he didn’t want to offend Dean. “I…don’t know how to be a good friend, but—if you ever need or want my company or my help—please call. I’ll—I’ll get a cellphone.” Castiel could’ve sworn he saw Dean’s lips twitch into a smile, but it was gone in a moment.

“See ya around, Cas,” he said, looking at Castiel for the first time in a long while. Cas shifted his pack tighter to his body and retracted himself regretfully from Dean’s space. He uselessly waved goodbye and watched Dean drive off. He fantasized about hiring a taxi, chasing him down and…and what? Inserting himself between Dean and his father? For the sake of a scrap of friendship? Castiel caught the bus.


	3. a pale imitation burnt in my eyes

To say that Cas took his and Dean’s falling out in stride would be generous. But still, Cas would say that he handled the situation with some grace. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d lived his life alone for a lot longer than he had spent with Dean, and even then Dean had never been a steady presence, just something to look forward to.

So, Cas returned to his old life. Go to work, work, go home, study. Class time gave him some reprieve, something to focus on other than the smallness of his own life. One of his classes was currently revisiting entangled particles—a phenomenon Einstein had just about ridiculed in a thought experiment years before it had been demonstrated.

Some spooky action across space—two quantum particles at arbitrary distance, that seemed to disobey locality. Measure one entangled particle, and not only was it influenced by measurement, but its counterpart was as well, equal and opposite, anywhere. Entwined. Things on the quantum level loved to buck convention, but they still often enough made more sense to Castiel than the brutality and unfairness of the classical, human world.

When Cas was young, he had been full of promise. He had attended college in order to obtain a degree in religious studies, taking up physics courses at first from curiosity and then as a prospective minor. He had nearly finished his religious studies major when he had fallen from grace, and he had spent more years alone trying to get back on his feet before trying again, elsewhere, a new life.

But Cas was having difficulties seeing the point of his new life. He was poor, he was lonely. It was painful. As painful as it had been to be silent in his old life, this new life’s pain was sharp, even if the life he lived was dull. He would see it through, obtain his degree as he had planned for so long, but he had never noticed how unhappy he was until Dean had breezed into his life and taught him how to feel joy. How to feel.

“How have you been, Cas?” Nora spoke up, breaking Cas from his reverie. Perhaps he had been mopping one spot on the floor of the Gas-N-Sip a little too thoroughly. She approached him, looking concerned. “Do you need to take any time off to study for exams? Or just…to take a break for a few days?” She was talking to him very softly, the way she’d speak to her daughter when Tanya was upset and she was trying to soothe her.

“Why do you ask?” Cas wondered, setting down his mop against the counter.

“It’s just…you seem a little down lately,” Nora said. Cas straightened out his posture, concerned.

“Have customers complained?” he asked, heart beating a little faster. Nora had given much to him—she had hired him when he’d had no work experience, no documentation, no home. Thanks to her, he had slowly found his footing in this town where he might not have otherwise. She didn’t know how much he owed her, but he felt obligated to her all the same.

“No, no, Cas,” Nora rushed to assure him. “I know I’m your boss but—I do care about you, you know? And it just seemed to me that you’re going through something right now.” Cas looked away guiltily. Clearly his thoughts about Dean had been affecting his performance. “Does it have something to do with your boyfriend?” she asked.

Cas startled. “My—_excuse_ _me?”_ he asked. Did she mean Dean?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nora said. “I just—I saw that young man with the black Chevy come in a few times while you were working, and, the way you two interacted, I assumed…Sorry. You two are just friends?” Cas found himself struggling to keep his breathing under control.

“What made you think we were together?” he asked her, unable to cross that point in the conversation and move on. He couldn’t. Like a scratched record, his thoughts kept catching and looping back to this. “What, about _me _made you think—” She thought he was gay. She _knew._ Her expression folded into something uncomfortable and sad.

“Cas—being gay isn’t a bad thing,” she insisted, confirming his fears.

He didn’t need platitudes. “Nora, please,” he pressed, begged, trying and failing to keep the panic from his voice. She understood then and she looked at him so piteously she made him feel a thousand times worse.

“You’re just a little different, Cas,” she said, trying to be kind. “It’s good. The parts of you that _are _different, they make you special.” Cas leaned against the counter, shutting his eyes, trying to keep himself from panicking. He had been that obvious.

She put her hand on his, giving him a comforting squeeze. “You know, I didn’t assume you and your friend were together because of _you_, Cas. I saw the way _he _looks at you.”

“He’s straight,” Cas got out.

Nora laughed, profoundly unhelpful. “If you say so.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, looking down at himself, seeing how pathetic he was. To be gay and this terrified by being perceived as such even by a nice woman like Nora.

“Don’t be,” Nora insisted. “My sister’s a lesbian. Rexford’s not the bluest town, but—you’re safe here, Cas.” He had been obvious. Of course—after all these years of him dodging romance in front of Nora and pinning it on being too busy with school and work, it made sense that she would come to suspect. The closest Cas had ever come to a date with a woman had been through a misunderstanding with Nora herself. Now he wondered if she had thought he was gay even back then. If that was why she'd seen a potential babysitter in him, not a lover. Clearly, she’d known, she had _always _known.

“If you…if you need to go on a break, or if you need the day off…I’m sorry I brought this up.” Unsteadily, Nora helped Castiel regain his footing. He had always kept his head down, done the tasks assigned, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d schooled himself, gathered up any emotions and sublimated them into other things, but with Dean. With Dean he hadn’t been able to look away. He’d forgotten himself. He’d forgotten everything.

“I’m…” he said, letting her straighten out his nametag and fix his collar. He wasn’t used to being seen. He had thought that he had been able to pass through his life invisible as long as he didn’t say it out loud, that perhaps even God might overlook it. But he was obvious, people were just polite. “I’m sorry this interfered with my work.”

Nora looked dismayed. “It hasn’t!” She was lying. “Cas, can I—can I give you a hug?” It was another gesture of kindness, but Castiel suspected if he agreed to one he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together afterwards. He reached out to hold her hands instead. He could hardly bear to look at her. “I mean it Cas, if you need a day off, or anything.”

“Working here _is _my day off,” Cas confessed, voice broken. Spending time at home, he’d had difficulties focusing on studying. His mind just kept coming back to Dean’s face that night in Kansas City, how stoically lonely he’d been. He didn’t know how he was going to handle himself when exams were over.

“My offer still stands,” Nora said, squeezing his hands. She looked at him for a moment, and then frowned, resolute. “Cas, I really think you should go home early today. I can close by myself.”

“Nora…”

_“No,_ I clearly dredged up some bad memories for you. Go home, make some tea, run a bath for yourself,” she ordered. He didn’t have a bath. “Or I’m going to feel like a jerk for the rest of your shift.” Cas hung his head, stressed. He really hadn’t wanted to go home. But Nora was insistent, stern, and he had made her feel poorly.

He packed up his books, his uneaten lunch, and limped his way over to the bus stop. He felt fairly pathetic. Dean had leant him a mixtape awhile back, a compilation of his favourite Led Zeppelin songs, and Castiel had tried not to stoop to listening it constantly but apparently he wore his wretchedness about him as obviously as a shroud.

He was early for the next bus, and while waiting he noticed someone had left a newspaper on the bench. Idly, he picked it up and looked it over. A body had been found in Sugar City, apparently, adding to two other bodies that had been recently discovered. There was a detail to it—the bodies had been drained of blood.

Perhaps a little foolishly, Cas fumbled through his pockets. Castiel had managed to purchase a reasonably affordable cellphone. It wasn’t that Dean wouldn’t answer Cas’s calls from the Gas-N-Sip or his apartment, but Cas didn’t want to press his luck, and he’d been meaning to get a new phone for awhile. After his third try, Dean finally answered the unknown number. “Who is this?” he asked, guarded.

“Hello Dean,” Cas greeted.

“Cas, I told you, we can’t do this,” Dean said, sounding uncomfortable, immediately recognizing Castiel’s voice. They hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks.

“I found a case,” Cas offered, pushing past the discomfort of rejection. “In Idaho.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, grunting as though he was adjusting his position on the other end. “What is it?”

“Exsanguination,” Cas said, feeling proud of his detective work. “Three people across Sugar City have been killed—and at least one more in Rexford.” Customers had told him about the one in Rexford, as it had been something of a scandal. Things one heard as a gas station sales associate. “Does that sound suspicious?” That was a rhetorical question and Cas preened waiting for Dean’s response.

“Certainly does, Cas,” Dean said flippantly. “Thanks.” And then, before Cas could volley back the smug _‘you’re welcome’ _he’d had prepared, he heard a click and the dial tone. Dean had hung up on him.

*

Not to be dissuaded, Cas donned all he knew about the type of disguises Dean would employ to get what he wanted. Dean had told Castiel about how he would fake being a detective, so Castiel crafted a fake FBI ID badge, dressed the part as best he could, and set out investigating, only praying he wouldn’t step over the toes of the actual police or be recognized. It wasn’t long before Dean rolled into town and the two of them crossed paths.

Frustratingly, Dean looked more handsome than ever. “Agent,” Dean greeted. He leaned in conspiratorially to Cas, dropping his voice so the people Cas had been interviewing wouldn’t overhear. “You know, forging government documents is a crime.” His cheeks were pink from the brisk air.

“Then arrest me,” Cas dared, beyond irritated with Dean. He was four years older than him and, yes, Dean had more experience with hunting but that gave him no right to treat Castiel like a child. Dean cracked a grin, as though he’d never rejected Castiel. Cas looked over to the entrance of the abandoned hospital. “Shall we go?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and let out a long sigh, but he followed Cas into the building the witnesses had pointed them to.

Castiel’s detective-work had served them far better than likely either of them had expected—but they made quick work of the vampires. Castiel, pleased, had even managed to kill one himself, although there had been a close call when two of them had ganged up on him. Dean’s amusement with Cas’s anger was quickly traded in for anger of his own.

“You nearly got _killed _back there!” he seethed as they left the building behind.

“That would’ve been my fault, not yours,” Cas replied, not seeing what the problem was.

“Not from where I’m standing,” Dean shot back, stubborn as ever. “I never should’ve let you come into the nest with me.”

“Dean,” Cas snapped. “It was the right thing to do, and I helped.” Dean opened his mouth to argue, but there wasn’t a good argument to what Cas had said and he knew it. Castiel _had_ hunted well. “Try as you might, you can’t protect everyone,” Cas murmured, gentler this time. Dean nodded slowly, eyes wide—almost hurt. Cas wasn’t any safer with distance.

“Okay, you were pretty handy, I’ll give you that,” Dean sighed, relenting. He looked Cas over, sizing him up. In the midst of his irritation, he seemed impressed. “Where the hell’d you learn to fight like that?”

“My family encouraged us all from a young age to learn,” Castiel replied. It wasn’t a fact he liked to advertise, but the boys and girls of Heaven had essentially been raised as soldiers for Tribulation.

“Wow,” Dean said. “For Christians, you guys don’t turn the other cheek much, do you?” Castiel almost smirked, feeling pleased with himself. The benefits of living in an apocalypse cult were evident now.

Feeling more stupid than angry, he asked, “Dean, can I buy you a drink?” Dean raised his eyebrows, an indecipherable expression on his face. Then he smirked.

“Make it dinner, _Agent.”_

*

“Alright, Cas, how’ve you been?” Dean asked, agreeing to pleasantries given that Castiel was paying for their food and drink.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Cas replied, clipped. They were back at the first dingey bar Dean had taken them to, and the longer Castiel spent in Dean’s presence, the less charmed he was and the more resentful he became.

“Okay, alright, I get it—you’re pissed,” Dean said, almost beseeching. He put his burger down on his plate. “You know _why _I’m doing this. You _get _why.”

“Dean, it’s idiotic to think that you’re endangering me by watching Westerns on my bed,” Cas replied. “I still haven’t finished them.” He took a bite of his own burger, chewed a moment and then, feeling accusatory, he added, “Also, you _stole _those tapes—didn’t you?”

“Hey, I rented them,” Dean said. “I’m just…taking my time returning them.” He was so flippant, careless.

“If you’re going to be out of my life, you should—” Cas cut himself off. He was angry. He was really _angry_. Dean needed to take those tapes.

“Cas?” Dean asked cautiously.

“Come back to my place tonight,” Castiel said, feeling both bold and completely out of control, trying to keep his voice level.

“Cas, I…” Dean muttered, looking awkward. Castiel knew how it sounded. In the past he would’ve rephrased, concerned about what others would say, what Dean would say, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Take your tapes,” Cas said. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that Dean, and the time Castiel got to spend with him, had become incredibly important to him. Dean wilted, sad and uncomfortable.

“Cas, you know I…I’m not trying to blow you off,” he said. “You’re a cool guy. I mean, you’re a dork but. _Jesus,_ Cas. I don’t…I don’t know how to do this, alright? I’ve never…had a friend before. Don’t think I could handle losing one,” he admitted. He meant to his lifestyle.

“So, you’d rather never have me,” Cas observed, not ready to be bowled over by Dean’s confession.

“Jesus,” Dean laughed uncomfortably. “You don’t have to…say it like this is our own private Idaho…” he stopped talking. He placed his hands on the table in front of them, shoulders hunched, clenching his jaw. It was difficult for him too, Castiel could see, and all his anger just…drain away. Cas wanted badly to hug him, bring him some comfort. He regretted his harshness.

“I’ll stop contacting you,” he offered. Dean steeled himself. And Castiel knew he didn’t want this either but thought it best. “Just take the tapes, Dean.”

“You should…” Dean said quietly, idly sliding his hand along the condensation of the beer in his grasp. “You should watch these movies, Cas. They’re good.”

Half, if not most, of the pleasure came from Dean’s commentary and reactions and general presence in Cas’s life. “I won’t watch them without you,” Cas said, resolute. Dean hung his head.

“Alright, alright, _Christ _we can watch ‘em!” he gave in. He let out a long sigh. “I’ve been craving some Sam Elliott anyhow.” That was…of all things, not what Castiel had expected Dean to say.

“You’ll have to drive me back,” Cas said, adjusting quickly and still a little angry. “I caught the bus out here.”

“Oh my god,” Dean grumbled, sounding somewhere between exasperated and affectionate. “Alright Miss Daisy, I can do that.”

They spent the rest of their dinner in relative silence. The waitress tried to split their cheques but Castiel stubbornly paid for both. Shucking his coat back on, Cas noticed Dean’s eyes catch on someone behind him. Curious, Cas turned.

“Castiel?” a voice spoke up. Castiel felt as though his blood had been replaced by ice. There stood Hester, eyes wide with shock and lips tight in a small frown.

“Hester,” Cas greeted, breathless. Dean looked between Hester and Castiel, clearly trying to guess at their relationship. Hester in turn looked at Dean, and then spun on her heel and left without another word.

“The hell was that about?” Dean asked, hushed. “That someone from Sunday school?” Cas didn’t have the energy to tell Dean that he was right.

“Please,” Cas muttered. “Just take me home.” Dean nodded seriously. In silence, they drove to Castiel’s. They watched Westerns until the morning when it was time for Cas’s shift, where Dean dropped him off. Then Dean left the state, taking all of his tapes with him, leaving nothing more than memories.

*

Castiel was alone in the Gas-N-Sip when Hester and Inias visited. They outnumbered him and bought gas, which they needn’t have bothered with considering they all knew that that was not why they had come. Castiel was working alone, which made the entire experience worse, his body primed for flight or fight to see them. But, he controlled himself and after Inias quietly paid, Hester finally admitted their purpose.

“I was told to tell you that Heaven has been reconsidering your case,” she revealed, almost casually. Cas nodded, looking at Inias who silently confirmed what Hester had said.

“There’s a new convert living on the compound who is in need of a husband. Her name is Daphne Allen. This is a photograph of her.” Hester held out her hand and Castiel accepted the little slip of paper. He turned it over and sure enough it was a photograph of a woman with dark hair and a pleasant smile. He looked back up at Hester.

“Think about it, Castiel,” she advised. She passed Cas a business card. “Speak to Naomi. We can set up a date between the two of you.” Had they forgotten that Castiel was homosexual?

“You mean for us to marry,” he said idiotically.

“Yes, Castiel,” Hester said, as though stunned by his dimness. Then something in her expression cracked. She glanced at her feet, angry. “I always admired you, Castiel. I held myself to your standards and when—when the scission occurred, I lost someone I looked up to.” She had been a year or so younger than him and had gone with him to school.

“You’ve done well without me, I’m sure,” he said, sounding lost to his own ears.

“I just don’t understand why, Castiel,” she said. “For that man?”

“We’re not—” Castiel said, clearing his throat. “We’re not together.”

“We know, Castiel,” Hester said. “We know you’ve never pursued sin. That’s why I don’t understand why you would leave.” She sounded frustrated and the utter humanity of that endeared was endearing, allowing him to relax incrementally. “If, like Anna, you left for an outsider, I would at least understand, but this? Living in perpetual inaction? You could have at least served the Church.” She was right.

“I…I would have liked to,” he said. His voice cracked.

“You have that opportunity now,” Hester said firmly. He nodded and she sighed, pulling her purse close to her side. “Heaven’s contact information is on the card. Consider this offer.” He had reacted fearfully, shamefully, to see Inias and Hester again but they were his family. They would rather have him on their side than against them, and he felt much the same.

“I will,” Castiel promised, turning the photograph over to look at the phone number and address printed on the business card. After these many years, he hadn’t forgotten that information. Hester nodded and she and Inias turned around to go. He watched them leave and held the photograph close to his chest.

*

Castiel had grown accustomed to taking buses to strange and faraway places, and this was a place he’d thought about for years. When he arrived, he spent another hour just wandering—considering. Considering what to say. Considering turning heel and going home—forgetting all about this. Catching the bus back to Rexford. He prayed briefly, guiltily, and found no comfort.

It was difficult for Castiel to come face to face with his past. Perhaps he was not unique in that regard. He knew, however, that no matter how things unravelled, no matter how what remained of his family reacted, this was something long overdue. And, as for running away, he knew it wasn’t a decision Dean would have made, so he stowed his cowardice and approached.

Gingerly, he knocked on the door. A few seconds passed and he heard feet stir on the other side. A few more seconds, and it opened. “Hello Cas,” Anna said, smiling instinctively at him. Her face twitched back into something more neutral almost immediately.

“Anna,” he choked out. He wanted to hug her but worried it would be unwelcome.

“Come in,” she said, checking behind him. “Take off your shoes, please.”

He kicked off his shoes to stand on her slippery wooden floor in his socks, nudging them onto a tray by the door. Shoes sizes larger than Anna’s feet sat perched next to her small sensible pairs. “Those are my boyfriend’s,” Anna said, noticing him noticing.

“Oh,” Cas said quietly, stepping aside.

Anna had a lovely apartment. It was decorated by various art pieces, photographs and paintings alike, as well as numerous lush green plants and succulents that lined the windows. It wasn’t a large place, but it was obvious that she had lived here in Witchita a number of years and made it her home. It was nicer than Castiel’s apartment by far.

She didn’t have much to offer him as far as hospitality went, not that Castiel minded. She made them both a cup of coffee, since they both drank, and she took out some fruit from her fridge. He’d barely given her any notice that he wanted to visit, and he’d ridden all day to come here, desperate to speak to her. He was lucky that she’d agreed to meet him at all.

“So, how have you been, Cas?” Anna asked. He felt like he should’ve been the one to ask her that question. When he’d gotten kicked out of Heaven, he hadn’t sought her out. He’d felt too guilty, and that he’d needed to atone. He never thought that perhaps it would have benefited her to speak to him. He’d abandoned her twice.

“I’m twenty-eight years old and still working on my Bachelor’s degree,” Cas admitted, raising an eyebrow, laying all his limited accomplishments bare. “I have a minimum-wage job at a gas station. I bought a cellphone a few months ago.”

Anna cracked a smile. “I don’t have a degree, if it makes you feel any better,” she offered. It was different. No one in their church had ever been encouraged to seek secondary education, Castiel had managed to weasel his way in under the guise of receiving more religious education, and then working his way into appreciating God’s mathematical design.

“How are you Anna?” Cas asked.

“Well, I tried school,” Anna replied, pushing her dark red hair behind her ear. She was stressed to have him here. “Journalism. Always loved to spread God’s truth, but I just wanted to spread truth. I…got up to my second year. And then something just…cracked. I couldn’t do it. I had a psychotic break. It was PTSD, and then some. Like soldiers.” She gave him a small, wry grin. She had been a soldier, in her own way.

“You still have time,” Castiel murmured. She was just twenty-three years old; still incredibly young, even when often Cas felt much more inexperienced and unwise next to her.

“Yeah, I know,” Anna smiled weakly. She glanced down into her cup of coffee. “I’ll go back someday. I have a job now. Not at a gas station. I _do _actually work in journalism. Publish some freelance articles here and there.”

“That’s good,” Cas said, as encouraging as he could. She had been so young when the Church had excommunicated her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Howard, my boyfriend, hosts kids’ birthday parties. He’s been really supportive of me through all this. He’s at work right now. That’s why he isn’t here.” Cas nodded.

“Would you like…me to meet him?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Anna said honestly. “You’d like him. He’s a good man. Kind, loving. He’s had a hard life. He’s very gentle.” Castiel nodded and helped himself to some of the grapes she’d set out.

“What happened to Charlie?” Cas asked. The girl Anna had thrown her life away over.

“Charlie’s okay,” Anna said. “We broke up years ago. We were young—sometimes things just don’t work out. We still keep in touch.” Cas nodded. “Are you wondering why I’m with a man now and not with the Church?” Anna asked with a quirk to her lips. Cas couldn’t lie. Of course he was wondering.

“I’m still attracted to women, Castiel. That doesn’t go away. And the Heavenly Host were terrible to me. Even if I pretended that I was heterosexual, that wouldn’t change.” Castiel nodded. “Besides, it’s not like they would be okay with me living with my boyfriend out of wedlock either,” she pointed out.

“Probably not,” Castiel agreed, though even _that _he wasn’t certain of. And, if she loved this man, they _could _marry each other. He understood why she might not want to, though.

“You know…” Anna said softly. “It’s all fine and good to be married to the Church as long as your eyes don’t wander. I’m guessing that’s why you came here. They made you an offer.” Guilt gripped Castiel and he looked away, ashamed. “They made me an offer too. They keep their eyes on you, even after you leave. Even after they kick you out.”

“I…I know,” Cas admitted. He suddenly felt concerned, then. “Do you think that I—that I might have brought them—”

“I wouldn’t have let you come if I thought I couldn’t handle it,” Anna said, holding her cup of coffee so tightly in her hands Cas suspected it must burn a little. “Why did you come here, Cas?” Castiel looked down at his own cup. She had added a lot of milk to his, no sugar. She’d expected him to add his own.

“I met someone,” Cas admitted quietly. He hastened to clarify, “We’re not together. He…doesn’t like men.” Anna nodded. He knew she’d known. She’d known before he had. When he’d discovered her and her girlfriend, she had implied that they were similar and he had rejected her. He had told their family. When she’d been brought back to Heaven, humiliated in front of her siblings, her eyes had specifically sought him out and he’d looked away.

“Go on,” Anna said. She wasn’t overly kind. He didn’t deserve it.

“For the first time in my life I…” Cas tried again, though it was difficult to get the words out. It was different. It was different to know you weren’t attracted to women. It was different to be attracted to men in the abstract, in an area of plausible deniability, of idle temptation. It was another thing to be attracted to an individual, with a beautiful smile, and renewing laugh, and a sad soul. To doubt that there was anything wrong with that.

“I don’t know what to do.” He looked up at Anna, feeling terrified. “Please…I know I don’t deserve to ask anything of you. But please…please tell me what it is that I’m supposed to do.” He needed guidance so badly. Castiel wasn’t in the habit of making choices for himself, and every choice he had ever made had led to pain, either for himself or for those he cared about.

“You have to figure this out by yourself,” Anna replied. “It’s scary. It doesn’t get easier.” She took another sip of her coffee and just watched him from across the table with familiar eyes. He hung his head. He knew she was right. It was unfair of him to come to her, after all he’d done to her, after all he’d neglected to do for her.

She reached over and took his hand, the corners of her mouth tense. And she didn’t say anything more. She looked just as scared for him as she’d been for herself when they were younger. It had been so many years ago now. “I can’t make your decisions for you, Cas,” she said. “But I love you. And I hope you make the right one.” He nodded and turned over his hand to hold hers, still hot from her coffee.

*

When Castiel had last spoken to Inias, he had given Castiel a time and a place to meet Daphne. Castiel had tried to look presentable, but he’d had to travel all the way from Idaho back to the city in Colorado Heaven’s compound was situated in. It was alright insofar that Inias assured him he would be able to spend the night at the compound and wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel, but. He’d arrived carrying his suitcase and wearing his finest clothes, now wrinkled from the commute over.

He stood out in the cold awaiting Daphne’s arrival, trying to pull down his dress pants over his socks. He’d arrived perhaps fifteen minutes early and he was trying. Trying to acclimate himself to this. He’d never gone on a date, much less with someone who he would possibly marry. She may not want him. He already knew he didn’t want her.

Presently, he saw a young woman approach him from across the street and he made room for the door in case she needed to pass. He tried to be subtle about observing her, but her eyes were fixed on him. “Hi, I’m Daphne,” she said as she approached, holding out her hand for him to take. He shook it gingerly. She flushed. “I saw your picture, that’s how I…”

“They showed me yours as well,” he assured her. Closer, he could recognize her. She had pleasant features, soft and earnest, and she was all the more pretty in person. “Shall we go inside?” She nodded, smiling gratefully, put at ease. It was an odd situation to be in.

A waiter seated them down in a cozy table near the window. There was enough daylight left for Daphne’s skin to be lit up blue, but the restaurant had placed a small candle in the center of the table to cast some warm light between them.

“I suppose I should introduce myself properly,” Cas said. “I, uh—I’m a physics undergraduate at a college in Idaho.”

“Wow, physics,” Daphne breathed. She sounded intimidated. “Like…Einstein?” It reminded him of Dean and Cas had to bite down a smile.

“Somewhat,” he said. Einstein had obtained his doctorate at age twenty-six. “I’m not…I’m not as smart as him but. I like the things he liked.” Daphne nodded, eyes light, encouraged. “What about you?”

“Oh, I—uh,” she fumbled. “I’m just…I worked as a receptionist for a few years after I graduated high school. I mean—I volunteered, they hired me on later. It was…charity work. I changed branches, so here I am.”

“That’s very noble,” Cas offered.

“I mean, I don’t know what else I’d do,” Daphne laughed, a little sadly. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nothing too exciting.”

“I suppose we have that in common,” Cas said. She smiled, and he tried to imagine falling in love with her.

The waitress arrived with loaves of bread and asked if they were ready to order. Daphne requested an inoffensive salad and Castiel skimmed over the burgers for something more mature. He settled on a cut of steak with vegetables on the side. He’d never have purchased this meal a month ago when he’d been living paycheck to paycheck. It wasn’t necessarily that he enjoyed steak any better than a burger, but. This was what his life was turning out to be.

Daphne was staring at him across the table. They’d already run out of conversation. Anything else would be to dig deep into disappointments and failed ventures. But, well, if they were to be husband and wife…“Daphne, I must ask,” Cas said. “Do you…” he paused. There was a better way to ask this question. “Do you know why they want us to marry?”

Daphne glanced down at the candle between them. “They…told me a little bit about you,” she confirmed. “About your past.” Castiel nodded. It had never been much of a past to speak of. Dean had been the extent of it, and Dean, while it was difficult for Cas to say, was straight.

“Alright,” Cas said. Daphne looked up at him.

“We can…we can start a new life, Castiel,” she said. “Together. If you want.” Marriage wasn’t really about want. It had always been about duty, property, this would be no different. Still, to think that she knew about his past and still wanted to marry him…

“Is that what you want?” he asked her.

“It seems like the right thing to do,” she said quietly. She looked at him, eyes wide. Her gaze shifted south again, to his hand resting on the table between them. Carefully, he saw her approach him, like a cat trying not to startle a bird. She gently rested the palm of her hand over his knuckles. It was a nice touch, full of hope and care. He really couldn’t argue with her.

*

Castiel came to stay at his old house after dinner. Daphne lived not far away, within distance of accompanying her to her quarters and walking comfortably back to his. It was by design, of course, all of the congregation enjoyed close quarters. He knocked on the door that had slammed behind him so many years ago. It didn’t take long for someone to open it.

“Castiel,” Balthazar greeted. He seemed delighted to see him, immediately pulling Castiel into a hug and patting his back soundly. “Come on in, you look frozen. Still don’t have a car?”

“Still don’t have a licence,” Cas replied, finding his teeth chattering. He hadn’t noticed how cold the night was until he was invited out of it. The house seemed to unfold to greet him, all his brothers inside casually strewn about the living room, as though they’d been comfortably waiting for him.

“You still know all about the universe but not street signs,” Balthazar said, amused, guiding Castiel by the shoulder and taking his coat. “We can fix that, but I’m tempted to leave it broken.” It wasn’t that Castiel was too uneducated to drive, he’d simply never had the…it didn’t matter. Castiel smiled politely and nodded.

“We had dinner, but I suppose you’ve already taken your fill,” Balthazar said, leading Castiel into the living room where Alfie and Uriel were comfortably seated about the fire.

“Hi Castiel,” Alfie greeted, walking over to give Castiel a warm hug. Uriel raised a hand in greeting but other than that didn’t give Castiel much more than a smile. He seemed happy to see him, though.

“Hello, everyone,” Castiel said, feeling overwhelmed to see the men he’d grown alongside with again. They were all a little older now, but there was a remarkable sense of familiarity. They wore the same clothes, and the living room was near identical to Castiel’s recollection.

“Take a seat, Castiel,” Uriel said, gesturing at the couch across from him. “We were just discussing the Church.”

“And your date. So?” Balthazar pressed. “What did you think? Did you like her?”

“She was…very nice,” Cas said, settling down on the couch. Uriel laughed a little, belly-deep and unchanged.

“She’s one of Heaven’s own,” he chuckled. “Of course she’s _nice_. What else?” Castiel would stumble here but Balthazar would pick up the slack.

“Now, now, is it appropriate for us to ask Castiel all the sordid details?” he laughed. “Did you _like_ her, Cas?”

Cas hesitated for only a moment. “I did,” he said. It was the truth.

“That’s wonderful!” Alfie enthused.

“Ah, it’s good to have you back, brother,” Uriel admitted, a small but genuine smile passing across his lips. It was…surprisingly pleasant to speak to them all again.

“Mind if I stop in, boys?” a high, decisive voice spoke up from behind them. “Just bringing some more tea and biscuits.”

“Come on in, Naomi,” Balthazar greeted, gesturing towards the table between them. “We could benefit from a feminine touch.” Castiel looked her over. She was nearly ten years older than him and growing up he’d had great admiration for her. She always led group prayer and while in the Church she couldn’t exactly replace Michael or Raphael, she seemed to have risen as far as she possibly could have.

“Castiel was just telling us how much he liked Daphne,” Alfie teased boyishly.

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that,” Naomi said. She had been especially cruel to Anna when Anna had left, or rather, when Anna had returned the first time. Her eyes were cold and clear on Castiel. “Daphne is a wonderful woman.”

“It certainly seems so,” he agreed neutrally.

“So,” Naomi said, taking a seat next to Uriel, and getting to the meat of the matter. “Are you interested in our offer, Castiel?” Castiel carefully took his tea. His family’s eyes, fixed on him, felt a little smothering. This was the question they’d all been waiting to ask him, after all.

“I don’t imagine I could find a better woman than Daphne,” he murmured into his cup. “I am…I am interested.” What was marriage? It wasn’t as though he’d ever be able to marry a man.

“Is that so?” Uriel laughed. “Daphne must be _incredibly _nice.” Uriel had always been funny, it was just difficult at times to laugh at his jokes.

“We would have the ceremony next month,” Naomi spoke up carefully. “That’s when Michael returns. Daphne doesn’t have much family, but that would give us enough time to organize the wedding.”

“Is that really necessary?” Uriel asked dismissively. “In the eyes of the Lord, none of the common trappings of modern life are needed. Better to have them married off and be done with it.”

“There are certain traditions to be met,” Naomi argued. “Castiel needs a ring, which we can provide for him. He also needs a fitted suit.” Castiel flinched a little. He knew it was clear he couldn’t afford either of those things, though when he was younger he would wear suits almost daily. “This isn’t some shotgun wedding; we have _values_ to uphold. Had you had more luck in love, you would know that.”

“Alright, alright,” Balthazar mediated. “Most of us are single here but let us all be happy for our brother Castiel.” Naomi still looked sour from Uriel’s comments. “We’re all devoted to the Lord, first and foremost, but Castiel especially would benefit from settling down.” They all looked towards him.

“Alright,” Castiel spoke up. “That sounds…fine.”

“Then,” Naomi said, smiling for perhaps the first time ever, all teeth. “There’s much work to be done at the Church, and you can live here with your brothers until you are ready to move into your new home with your wife.”

“I would…” Castiel said numbly. “I’d like to finish my education first.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Balthazar laughed, clapping a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Cas tried not to fluster. “Be a pity to quit now.”

“Of course you can finish your degree, Castiel,” Naomi assured him. Castiel almost sighed with relief. “This is your last semester, correct?”

“Yes,” Cas said.

“You’re still welcome to leave your job,” she said. “Turn your mind to higher things. Heaven will take care of you until you’re ready to move back. This way you can focus on your schoolwork, as well as spend more time visiting home.” Home.

“I…” Cas said. “I think I’d like that.” Naomi smiled again.

“It’s good to see you again, Brother,” she said, sounding earnest.

“Thank you,” he said. It was all he could say.

*

“Thank you for giving me a ride home,” Castiel murmured.

“No worries,” Balthazar said. “We’re all happy to see you back, Cas. We missed you.”

Something in Castiel’s chest clenched at those words. “I missed you all as well,” he admitted.

“I knew you’d come back,” Balthazar said, smiling. “We all have our youthful misadventures…except perhaps Mother Superior back home.”

When Balthazar had been young, younger than Castiel but older than Anna, he had run away from home and gone on wild parties, slept with many women, and eventually found his way back to the Church, addicted and drained. He seemed healthy now, happy even.

“You were always incredibly devout, Castiel,” he said. “A good soldier of God.”

“I never stopped believing,” Castiel admitted. “It was never about my faith.” Balthazar nodded, though he didn’t seem to agree.

“Perhaps not in God,” he said. “When I…went down my path of destruction, I always believed. But I didn’t believe in the Church, for that time. In my family, Heaven’s mission. That was a mistake.”

He inclined his head to look at Castiel. “Raphael and Michael receive Divine Revelation. They wouldn’t tell you any instruction just to hurt you, Castiel. It’s for the best, you know?” Castiel nodded. He knew. “I…I really do sympathize. I know you can’t help how you feel. But you can _still_ live righteously! We can’t change God, we can only change ourselves.”

“I know,” Castiel agreed, feeling resigned. He looked out the window, feeling a little sick. He trusted God, he even trusted Michael and Raphael’s righteousness when they weren’t subsumed by, in Castiel’s opinion, their egos.

“Balthazar, I need to use a restroom,” he spoke up. Balthazar tutted.

“Couldn’t have gone when we stopped for gas, could you have?” he grumbled. “I’ll pull into a McDonalds.” Cas nodded gratefully.

Once situated, Cas headed into the restaurant alone, relieved that Balthazar trusted him enough not to follow him. One of the employees let him use the store phone, given that Dean might not answer if Castiel called, and he dialed Dean’s number without pause. The first time Castiel called no one picked up. So he called again, not willing to second-guess himself.

When he heard breaths on the other line his knees nearly buckled from relief. “Who is this?” a gruff voice answered. All doubts he’d felt sublimated into the air.

“Hello Dean,” Cas murmured, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. It felt so good to hear his voice.

“Cas!” Dean croaked out. Despite their arguments, he seemed happy to hear from Cas. His voice sounded thick with sleep, like Cas had just woken him up from a nap. Castiel knew that Dean slept only when he could, and he felt a little guilty for disturbing him. “What’s up?”

Cas opened his mouth but couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t know what to say. If he should even tell Dean. Would Dean even care? Castiel knew he shouldn’t bother Dean but…they’d been through much together and Cas _wanted_ to tell him, or at least he had. Now he wondered if he should keep it to himself, pretend it wasn’t happening. Let it pass by Dean quietly.

“Cas?” Dean prompted, sounding more alert, perhaps a little concerned now because of Castiel’s silence.

“I’m getting married,” Cas said. Dean was quiet for a moment.

“Uh—that’s…great, Cas,” he said, sounding a little thrown. “Wow. Who’s the—the lucky guy?” Cas couldn’t reply. Dean laughed, a little breathless in Cas’s silence. “Am I going to have to book a B&B in Vermont?”

Cas’s grip on the phone was so tight it had started to hurt so he loosened his hold and readjusted. “It’s not to a man, Dean,” he admitted.

“My…family obtained a new parishioner. Her name is Daphne. We’re getting married next month and I…” he sighed. This was difficult to say out loud. “I just thought I should tell you.” He felt a flash of guilt…this was really none of Dean’s business and there was no point in burdening him. “Sorry,” he said. “Have a good day, Dean.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa Cas—don’t you—” Dean started yelling and Cas hung up.

That had been a colossal mistake. It didn’t matter to Dean whether or not Castiel got married, and even if it did it wasn’t as though there was anything for Dean to do about it. Castiel should have carried this burden alone, but he had been too selfish. He had wanted to tell Dean, unable or unwilling to merely shoulder it himself. He was so weak.

The McDonalds employee was staring at Castiel with huge eyes and an open mouth. He thanked them and headed back outside.

“You know, I was starting to worry about you,” Balthazar said when Castiel slid back into the passenger’s seat. “Digestion troubles?”

“Not used to fine food,” Cas offered. It wasn’t wholly a lie.


	4. I don’t want money and I don’t want God

Castiel uprooted his life. He handed in his two weeks to Nora, with little explanation or warning, made plans to move, and switched his focus entirely to his schoolwork. He felt guilty for abandoning his manager on such short notice, but he couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. He didn’t want to acknowledge how it would look to people like Nora or Dean—those who didn’t think Castiel was a sinner, or at least didn’t care that he was one.

He tried to enjoy his solitude and freedom now that he was supported by the Church. They had paid his rent for the month and given him some money for expenses, as they had done so many years ago…nearly nine years ago, when he had first attended college. He wondered if they regretted sending him, but he’d never thought to ask. Partially, they’d allowed him to attend with the promise of bringing converts back home. He hadn’t succeeded in that regard.

There was something insidious about education for Heaven; there was much to be said about a snake, an apple, and well-intended curiosity. He’d never acted on any of his desires. He had hardly permitted himself exposure to the secular world while he’d been attending his first college, which _had_ been a Christian school but, even so, was culturally different from his church. He was lucky that they were allowing him to finish his degree, though he wasn’t destined to use it.

He was going grocery shopping now with money he hadn’t had to earn beyond a promise to marry a nice woman and he was trying to enjoy freedom. He didn’t have to go to work, he didn’t have to worry about making rent or spending too frivolously on meals. It was strange…he had become accustomed to survival. He could turn his mind to higher things now, to physics, to God, and still his mind guiltily circled back to one thing with the inevitability of gravity.

“Castiel!” a voice greeted. It was Mrs. Young, one of the more frequent and affectionate customers at Castiel’s old job. She often gave the employees of the Gas-N-Sip her excess harvest, or cookies around Christmas.

“How are you, Mrs. Young?” he acknowledged, walking in her direction to meet her.

“I haven’t seen you much at the Gas-N-Sip,” she complained, bustling up to him at a leisurely pace. “I’ve had no one to give my eggplants to.” Cas smiled a little. He liked her vegetables. “I mean, of course I gave the lot to your manager, seeing as that teenager that’s working there now—” Mrs. Young frowned disapprovingly. “Would probably only do rude things with an eggplant.”

“Thank you for thinking about me,” he said. “I…I’m getting married,” he admitted. “I left my job and after this semester is over I’ll be moving south to live with my…fiancée.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Mrs. Young said enthusiastically. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Cas said. Mrs. Young beamed.

“I remember when I married Al,” she went on fondly. “The world just seemed to open up for us.” She held up her hand to show him her old wedding band, unpolished but well-worn. “I was so proud to love him.” Castiel nodded, throat closing up. He didn’t feel proud of this. “Do you mind if I give you some advice?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, shifting to get a better look at her face. She smiled, delighted to relay her wisdom, and just as she began to speak, she was cut off.

“Hey!_ Asshole!”_ a deep, furious voice called out. Cas turned around and sure enough there was Dean, in that jacket of his, striding just slow enough to not be considered running but fast enough to make Cas’s heart rate quicken.

Dean got his hands around Cas’s collar, pulling him up and back against the brick of the building behind Cas. “I should tear you a new one for that crap you pulled,” Dean seethed. “You call me—tell me you’re getting married—and hang _up _on me?!”

“Dean, please calm down,” Cas begged, looking at Mrs. Young’s shocked expression.

“I drove two-hundred miles out here, and you owe me one _hell _of an explanation,” Dean snarled, shoving Cas against the wall to emphasize his anger, bricks biting into Cas’s back.

“Dean,” Cas said, glancing behind them at poor Mrs. Young. Dean tossed a look over his shoulder and loosened his grip on Cas slightly, and then entirely.

“You’re buying me lunch,” he snarled, already walking off. Cas nodded.

“It’s alright,” Cas explained to Mrs. Young, who still looked horrified, as he turned to follow Dean. “We’re friends.”

Dean scoffed. “Don’t count on it,” he said.

Maybe out of some misplaced sense of sentimentality, Cas brought Dean back to the restaurant they’d first spent time together in. Cas ordered them both burgers and Dean waited for their meals to arrive in fuming silence. Castiel had expected that Dean would feel bad for Castiel marrying a woman but none of that manifested itself in pity.

“Okay, so what the hell is all this about?” Dean asked once their food arrived, slightly mollified by his burger.

“My family approached me and told me about Daphne,” Cas said. “She’s a devout Christian and…she’s very nice.”

“Okay, so you’ve met her, at least,” Dean scoffed.

“Of course,” Castiel said, a little defensively. He pulled out his wallet, combing through for the photograph he’d been given, folded over in the center. He slid it across to Dean’s side of the table. Dean picked it up and studied it, considering it for a moment. Then he tossed it back over to Cas, jaw tense.

“So, she’s some Bible freak?” Dean asked.

“We have that in common,” Cas reminded him. Dean carded a hand through his hair, obviously stressed. Cas didn’t know why Dean was so angry. He was disappointed in Castiel, most likely.

“I just don’t get it, Cas. Those sons of bitches have been ignoring you for _years_. What the hell changed?” Dean still looked furious. Cas glanced down away from him. If he was to tell Dean the truth, that Hester had seen him being just slightly too happy at Dean’s side, there was a chance Dean would react negatively.

“Daphne’s new,” he offered.

_ “Bull,”_ Dean hissed. “Like the thing keeping them from buddying up to you again was a mail-order bride lost in the post.” Castiel bristled at the way Dean talked about Daphne. But he couldn’t burden Dean with this. He said nothing. “Cas, what the hell are you doing? Are you—are you straight now or—what?” Cas flinched.

Anna had been excommunicated for homosexuality but still had the ability to love men as well as she loved women. Castiel had thought it would perhaps be easier for her to deny her whole self than it would be had she been a lesbian. In truth, it was Castiel’s own denial that he had expected to see. Anna had lived her truth and suffered for it while he was choosing quiet complacency, suffering all the same.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Dean snapped after Cas’s silence, standing abruptly, nearly throwing his plate off the table. Cas glanced down at his fries. This felt terrible. Dean had been free from him and now, thanks to Castiel’s subpar decision-making skills, Dean had been dragged back in to witness Cas resign himself to a marriage that could never truly work.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said quietly when Dean returned. “I never should have called you.”

“No, Cas,” Dean sighed. He sounded exhausted. “I’m glad you did.”

“You seem tired,” Cas voiced his observation. In addition to Dean’s posture, the skin beneath his eyes seemed thin and bruised and his eyes, when he opened them, looked a little red.

“Long drive,” was all Dean said. Castiel wanted to reach across the table and grasp his hand, still clenched with stress. Uncurl those fingers and thread them with his. It seemed natural, almost.

“I can reimburse you for gas,” he offered. He could afford it now.

“Don’t have to,” Dean mumbled. They ate quietly together for awhile. Finishing up his burger, Dean put his hands on the table in fists. “I just…what the hell are you doing, Cas? Why are you going back to them?”

“…My family is offering me huge financial support,” Cas said honestly. “To pay off my student loans, to give me a house as well as a job—a purpose. And they’re offering themselves after we haven’t spoken in years.” He thought this was a point Dean couldn’t argue against. “Tell me, for a chance to speak to your brother again, with all forgiven, what wouldn’t you do?”

“Exactly, Cas, they haven’t spoken to you in years!” Dean said, raising his voice, the subdued manner he’d taken on forgotten. He’d gotten caught on that one thing. “They kicked you out, on the street, no help—_nothing_. And now you have to marry some stranger for them to accept you? Cas, that ain’t family.”

“What about your brother?” Cas asked.

“Listen, I’m giving Sam his space and he’s giving me mine but I know, end of the day, my head on the line, I know he’ll come through for me,” Dean said fiercely. “And I’ll come through for him. I made a mistake but he wouldn’t make me jump through any hoops.”

“Then why don’t you?” Cas asked softly.

“Because he deserves _better _than this life,” Dean said. “Better than me. And you don’t deserve to marry some woman you barely know just so your ‘family’ will be decent to you for once. Cas, if you like this chick, if she turned you then—all power to you, I’ll shut my mouth. Hell, I’ll be your best man! But you have to tell me,” Dean was furious, fixing Cas with a stare he had difficulties looking away from. “Tell me I’m wrong about this.”

Cas looked down, unable to hold Dean’s eye. He noticed the waitress approach and quietly he said, “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t live my life by God’s plan.”

“And what are you gonna do when she wants kids, huh Cas?” Dean yelled. “You gonna yank it into a cup for Jesus?”

Cas frowned and tossed an apologetic look to the waitress. “Could I please get the bill?” She closed her mouth and nodded.

*

Outside the diner, the cold air seemed to chasten their conversation. Dean seemed to regret having raised his voice. Castiel, on the other hand, just got angrier at him now that they were outside. Dean had—again—come into Castiel’s life, determined to uproot it, uncaring of the effects he had on Castiel. “Does your father know you’re here?” Cas asked.

“C’mon dude,” Dean sulked. “I’m twenty-four years old. He doesn’t need to know everywhere I go.”

“So, he doesn’t,” Cas stated.

Dean frowned. “No,” he said. “He doesn’t. What’s your point, Cas?”

“You came here to criticize my family,” Cas said. “You may not like them, but that doesn’t give you the right.” Not when Cas had to censor himself about John.

“Oh, like _hell_ it doesn’t,” Dean shot back, suddenly raring to go once more.

“You have no right to judge my family, given that your father still hasn’t accepted us,” Cas said. Dean’s jaw clicked shut.

“What about us?” he asked, dangerous. Cas opened his mouth to say something but all his will to fight Dean or even be hurt by him drained right out.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I’m going to marry Daphne, finish my education. I’m nearly thirty, it’s time for me to…accept my responsibilities and stop…”

“And stop _what_, Cas?” Dean asked. “Stop—stop living your life?”

“What kind of life am I living Dean?” Cas asked, raising his voice. “Working a thankless job, studying when I’m not working, waiting for some demon hunter to roll back into town as the highlight of my month?” Dean’s gaze was steely, and his jaw was clenched tight.

“Screw it,” he muttered suddenly, grabbing Castiel by his collar as he was so fond of doing, and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Cas couldn’t react. He froze. They were in the middle of the street outside. And Dean was kissing him. Oh God—Dean was _kissing _him. And then, Dean was ripping himself away, eyes wide with fear.

“I,” Dean said, cheeks flushed. “Jesus. I’m sorry.” His fingers dug into the material of Cas’s shirt. Apparently Castiel had been still for too long. “Christ, I’m so sorry Cas, I thought that—God.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s wrist before Dean could pull away. _“Dean,” _he said. He’d never…he’d never been kissed before. Much less so openly and with—Dean had _touched _him. Dean had put his hands on his body, pulled him close. Dean had wanted this. Even if just to prove a point.

“You just can’t do this,” Dean begged. “This is—they’re nuts.”

“By your standards, so am I,” Cas reminded him. He tilted his head to the side to get a better look at Dean. Dean had _kissed _him.

“You don’t have to do what they want you to do,” Dean pressed on. “What the hell are they doing for the end of the world? Right? _I’m_ the one saving people, hunting things. What the hell do they do besides Bible-thump?”

Castiel was astounded…Dean was so righteous. And rightfully so, Cas thought. Perhaps he was a poor judge of character, perhaps he was biased, but no one had ever inspired him this much other than God. Perhaps not even Him. Dean’s face was set in a determined, angry expression.

“Damn it, okay, we’ll figure it out,” he said. “We’ll fix this.” Castiel nodded. He believed him. He let Dean drive them home.

*

Dean had apologized before when they’d shared a bed. Once, he’d rolled himself onto Castiel’s side in his sleep and had acted as though it were a trespass. “If you’re spending the night, I only have one bed,” Cas reminded him as they filed back into his small apartment. He’d never noticed its smallness until he shared it with Dean, but even then, it had felt cozy. Now it felt oppressive, like the two of them were penned up together.

Dean let out a strangled noise that could’ve been a laugh. “S’fine,” he muttered.

“Once I marry Daphne, she and I will move into a new house together,” Cas said, just to make conversation. “It was constructed by the church; I won’t have to pay for it.”

“Wow,” Dean said derisively, making himself more comfortable in Cas’s space. “Sounds like they really got it all figured out. Would they be this helpful if you _hadn’t _left?”

“They would have given me a place to stay,” Cas said, though he likely would have continued to live with the other single men of Heaven. The church took exceptional care of their own—going into the outside world and getting an apartment had been such a sharp departure from everything he’d known.

Unsatisfied that he wasn’t able to hold another point against Castiel’s family, Dean frowned.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Cas asked. He wandered over to the fridge to see what he had left. He looked over at Dean.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Dean replied, looking awkward and small in Cas’s kitchen. They’d never spent much time here…Cas was a middling chef and never had enough ingredients for Dean to try his hand at anything significant. “Water, maybe?” Cas filled up a glass from the tap and handed it over to Dean. “Actually, man, I think I’m going to turn in,” Dean muttered, after a swig. “I drove a long way and I’m bushed.” Cas nodded. It had been a hard day.

Dean still had his own toothbrush in Cas’s bathroom, and while Dean grabbed his sleeping clothes from his car Cas brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Back inside, Dean spent what felt like an eternity in the bathroom, turning the tap on and off as he prepared for bed. Cas wasn’t sleepy, but long-term exhaustion has stealthily crept up on him. He could certainly rest now.

Dean emerged from the bathroom, wearing a loose sweater over his sleeping clothes that looked comfortable, if a bit warm, necklace dangling over his collar. “D’you,” Dean started, then cleared his throat. “D’you wanna watch anything?” Cas considered.

“I don’t have any tapes,” he reminded Dean.

Dean stuttered a laugh. “Right,” he said. Still, he didn’t approach the bed. At last, he said, “So…are we going to talk about what just happened?” Castiel looked up at him. He looked flushed and uncomfortable in Cas’s bedroom, his hand clasped to the back of his neck.

“I thought you might not want to,” Cas replied softly, shifting into a seated position.

“I…you’re right but,” Dean said. “I dunno. Can’t pretend that didn’t happen.” They could have. Cas would have for Dean. Still, Cas nodded. He could see this was difficult for Dean. This was something that had taken Castiel many years to even stop ignoring, much less come to terms with. Castiel swung his legs over the side of the bed and adjusted his robe appropriately.

“Do you like men, Dean?” he asked.

“Christ,” Dean cursed. “I don’t know.” Castiel nodded, turning away from Dean. Then, unwitting bait, Dean added, “And you’re gay so…I don’t even know if you—even _want_ someone like me.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?” Cas muttered, suddenly irritated. Did Dean even know how much he meant to Castiel?

“I mean I don’t have a _dick_, Cas,” Dean mumbled, running his hand over his eyes. “I’m just…and I’m a mess. I don’t even know if I like guys, I—”

“I’m hardly well put together,” Cas murmured, getting to his feet slowly as to not spook Dean. “And believe it or not, your genitals aren’t the first thing I think about when I think about you.” Dean glanced up at him, eyes wide. Cas shifted, a little embarrassed at his boldness. “I mean, do you think about mine when you think about…” Cas trailed off.

“I mean,” Dean stumbled. “Maybe. Sometimes.” Cas stared at him. And nearly laughed, disbelieving.

“Dean—”

Not finding the humour in the situation, Dean rushed to add, “It’s just, Cas. You can’t—you can’t go back to them. I know they’re offering you a lot, but you’re better than that. They dumped you out on the street because of who you are and they’re only ready to let you back if you cut out that part of yourself and it’s not fair!”

“And what about your family?” Cas asked. Dean stilled, jaw tense. Maybe Cas was being cruel, but he kept going, “What would your father say if he knew that we’d…”

“Cas, it’s different,” Dean cut him off.

“How?” Cas asked, feeling exhausted again all of a sudden. Dean gaped at Cas, mouth opening and shutting.

“Okay, screw it, it’s _not _different,” he said at last. “It’s not _right.”_

“I don’t want to quote Leviticus to you, Dean, but various sources would disagree,” Cas said quietly. He had the passages memorized.

“Good thing I don’t believe in that crap and good thing that even if it _is _true it still doesn’t matter! No one gets to treat their kids that way! I don’t deserve—” Dean cut himself off, bringing his voice back down. He cradled his face against the palm of his hand. This was a lot for him. It seemed like he’d never considered that perhaps he deserved to be treated better than he had been.

“How did you know…” Dean asked, posture curling in on itself as he went to sit down on the bed. “That you were…that you liked guys.” That was an unexpected change in topic.

“For a long time, I didn’t,” Castiel murmured, moving carefully to take the other side next to Dean. “I…assumed everyone felt the way I did and…sexual repression was common in our church regardless of orientation.”

“Gotta keep that chastity belt locked tight till your wedding, huh?” Dean joked. Cas nodded. Dean looked interested then. “So, wait—Cas—that means.” Cas didn’t know what Dean was trying to say, but it seemed important to him. “Cas. You don’t drink, you don’t do drugs. Do you…are you…”

“A virgin?” Cas asked. Dean nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”

“Oh my god,” Dean murmured, mystified. Castiel didn’t know what the big deal was. He knew twenty-eight was extreme by outsider standards but in the Church it was par for the course. Especially given that fraternization with outsiders was discouraged, and fraternization within the Church was usually unappealing given that they were often raised together as family. “So—no one? Didn’t even get handsy with a choir boy?”

“No one,” Castiel confirmed. He considered for a brief pause, then admitted, “That was my first kiss.” Dean’s eyes widened, somehow surprised.

“Holy shit. I wish I’d known,” he muttered after a moment. “I would’ve…I woulda made it more special.” Cas felt like it had been pretty special but he didn’t want to give Dean the impression that he was satisfied with just that. He had been satisfied with Dean’s friendship, with Dean’s presence on a mattress next to him as they watched Dean’s favourite movies. He wasn’t satisfied with having kissed him and being told they could never do it again.

“You could,” Cas said, clearing his throat, trying to be subtle, then losing all nerve. “If you wanted to…” Dean was looking at him with something soft and amused in his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, come here.” Cas leaned in, heart in his throat.

Dean placed his hand on Castiel’s jaw, and coaxed him in closer until their lips met. This kiss was softer, nearly chaste but not quite. Castiel had no idea what he was doing. He just let Dean kiss him, knock his head a little to the side to press in closer, taking in the scent of Dean’s aftershave.

For sheer length of time it was more…awkward than the first kiss. Given that Castiel wasn’t panicking as he had the first time he was allowed to really focus on what was happening. Dean’s breathing, fast and distracted, his teeth catching on Cas’s lips, their noses bumping artlessly and Dean’s nervous little laugh in response. Still, Dean was incredibly gentle, and his hands perched on Cas’s jaw and ribs felt nothing short of perfect.

Dean was the first to pull away, leaving Cas’s head buzzing, his lips burning. Cas opened his eyes to see Dean up close. Dean’s eyes were almost completely black but for the halo of green around the margins of his pupils and they were fixed on Castiel, lazy and beautiful. Cas could count every freckle if he wanted to. “I’m not,” Dean spoke up then. “We’re not together, okay Cas? This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay,” Cas agreed. Dean looked guilty. Then down at Cas’s mouth. Cas leaned in again to kiss Dean and Dean let out a startled noise but his arms were around Castiel before Cas could even think of pulling away.

Cas eased Dean backwards onto the bed, onto his back. Dean always looked wonderful in bed—relaxed and carefree. Cas firmly pressed Dean into the sheets, hovering over him, learning on the go. This is what had been missing all those years. Dean in his arms, hand on his hips, everything sliding into place, becoming justified. This was not what Castiel was meant to do, but it meant everything to him.

Dean gently pushed Cas’s face back, cleared his throat in the space between them. “We should,” he said regretfully. “We should probably quit while we’re ahead.” Cas nodded, breathless, pulling away. Dean was right.

Castiel had—he had to do research. He’d never so much as seen pornography and the Church had never provided instruction for sex between men, barely any instruction for _heterosexual_ couples, and he had no idea how—how to do this. He could go to the library. He’d been expecting Dean to lead and Dean was pulling the brakes on this, whatever this was.

Cas sat up, giving Dean some space and silently willing himself to calm down. He let out a tense sigh, looking down at Dean still lying back on the bed. Lips flushed and hair a mess, Dean had never looked so lovely. And Dean was staring up at him still, eyes considering. Cas could almost hear the thoughts whirring through Dean’s mind.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, sitting up next to Cas. “Cas…it’s not that I don’t want to.” He wanted to. “Not like I haven’t thought about this before…I mean, hell, first time we met I thought—maybe. But then we became buddies so I didn’t…” He’d thought about it. He’d thought about the two of them together. It hadn’t just been Castiel.

“But I can’t do this,” Dean said. “You deserve better, Cas. You deserve better than some trumped up jackass that’s still figuring out if he likes guys, alright?” Castiel didn’t mind being an experiment, if Dean was the experimenter. The thought must have shown on his face because Dean shook his head as though to clear it, getting to his feet. Cas noticed his walk was a little shaky, a little stilted.

“I never would have come out had my family not forced my hand,” Cas admitted, flipping onto his back, changing the subject back to less treacherous territory.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, trying to subtly adjust his pants. Cas bit down a smile.

“I thought my lack of attraction to women was simply a—manifestation of my loyalty to God.” It sounded funny to say out loud but the reality of it still stung, an old ache. “But while I appreciated God’s design, to marry a woman—to live with one as a man should, as_ I_ should,” Cas’s throat closed up. “It never appealed to me. As much as I wanted it to.” The thoughtful look in Dean’s eyes made him feel understood, somehow.

“You’re marrying Daphne,” Dean pointed out then, gruffly.

“I think, at this point, it’s clear that I won’t be,” Cas said quietly. Dean nodded. “As it was…one day I was approached by a member of my family and asked about my preferences. And it’s one thing to lie by omission, so I told the truth. And…they cast me out. It’s not a story you haven’t heard before.” Dean nodded.

“Still better than mine,” he said.

Cas smiled. “What is your story, Dean?” he asked, shuffling his robe and leaning up into Dean’s space, feeling a little teasing. Dean cracked a smile.

“It ain’t exactly PG, Cas,” he said. Cas laughed. Few things were, with Dean.

“And when you and I met?” Cas asked, delighting under Dean’s gaze.

“That’s a whole other can of worms,” Dean’s grin broadened. They shared a quiet few seconds, looking at each other from a close distance until Dean cleared his throat. Cas let the moment die again.

“Given that I handed in my two-weeks notice, I’m not sure what I’ll do between now and graduation…” he said. There was a chance Nora would hire him back on, but then again she might resent the fact that he’d left on such short notice.

“God, I’m so sorry Cas,” Dean said, laden with guilt. “Listen, I’ll get together the money to help you graduate and—and then I’ll just get the hell out of your life and stop screwing it up, I swear.”

“Dean, I think it’s been established that I like it when you screw up my life,” Cas said. Dean stuttered out a pained laugh.

“Well, that’s my specialty,” he said. He was not to be dissuaded tonight. Cas reached out to grip Dean’s wrist gently.

“Let’s go to bed, Dean,” he said.

“Jesus,” Dean said in reply. “You’ve gotta be doing that on purpose.” Cas just hummed a little and pulled Dean along.

*

Dean had asked to stay for the next few nights and Cas was not one to deny him. They didn’t kiss again, but in bed Cas held Dean in a position Dean derisively informed him was called ‘spooning’ and it was wonderful. Cas still had no idea where he was going to live now that he wasn’t marrying Daphne, and he knew better than to burden Dean with this worry. The simple act of waking up next to Dean, unafraid, was all he could hope for.

They went out for breakfast at a diner, not speaking much, not _having _to speak much. Dean ate his pancakes in record time, then worked on his coffee. Cas cradled his jaw in his palm, considering Dean. “Do you want the rest of my breakfast?” he asked, nudging his plate over. Dean’s grin was a sunrise.

“How’ve your classes been, Cas?” he asked, helping himself.

“I’ve stayed on top of them,” Cas said. “I’ve handed in the last of my reports so now I just need to study for my finals.” There were three classes, and now Cas had an exorbitant amount of time on his hands. He expected to do well, especially with Dean here.

“Don’t start slacking now,” Dean said, affecting sternness. Cas smiled. He wanted to hold Dean’s hand.

“What about you, Dean?” he asked. “What have you been up to?”

“Took care of a werewolf up in Michigan,” Dean said with a sigh. “Met up with my dad to take down a huge nest of vampires—where I totally redeemed myself, by the way.” Cas nodded. He would’ve said that Dean had redeemed himself, as far as vampires were concerned, when he and Castiel had taken down a den, but clearly Dean was speaking about his father.

“So,” Dean said, appraising Cas a little mischievously. “Now that you’ve been behind the curtain, would you still say it’s some awesome adventure? Because I mean…it kind of is, but it’s also a grind.”

“Everything’s a grind once it becomes your life,” Cas said, feeling wise. “That only changes if you find purpose in it.” Church had been like that, college was like that, Castiel throwing himself time and time again after Dean. And there was something to be said about finding satisfaction in the struggle, Sisyphus and his boulder. Dean shrugged.

“Guess I do,” he allowed. “But still, it’s nice to kick back with you, Cas.” Cas didn’t know how to approach the topic, to tell Dean that he didn’t want to sit and wait on him, that he wanted to travel with him. Instead he poured more syrup on Dean’s pancakes and avoided his eyes.

*

Outside was a beautiful day. Winter was edging into spring and the sun was out, bright and cheery, lighting up the streets of Rexford with something warm and inviting. Normally Dean would visit in the evening and be gone by morning, but now—now, Dean was staying, perhaps not for very long, but he was staying nonetheless, and Castiel was left to host.

In all honesty, Castiel had never had much time to explore Rexford himself. He had been too busy surviving, then working, then spending time on school to pay much attention to the town he’d lived in for the past three years. But with Dean, things took on new meaning and Castiel savored the sights as though he were saying goodbye.

But, as it was with Dean, trouble always seemed to find them. They were walking by a park near the river that wound itself through Rexford when Hester spotted them. “Castiel!” she called, starting to pace over, pulling her short dog almost comically along with her. She looked angry, Cas acknowledged with sinking dread.

“Jesus, did these dicks plant a tracker chip in you?” Dean complained.

Hester marched over to them. “Castiel!” she said again. She glanced over at Dean, accusing. “What are you doing with him?”

“We’re walking, lady,” Dean shot back. “That against your religion?”

Hester ignored him. “Castiel, what about the wedding?” she pressed. “Your bride? You’re graduating soon, and plans must be made and yet here you are—focusing neither on those plans nor your schoolwork.” Castiel took a breath. He could lie. And it would perhaps hurt Dean, and only stall his plans for disobedience briefly, but it was still something Cas could do. He and Dean had known each other for a relatively short amount of time and arguably owed each other very little.

“I won’t marry Daphne,” Cas admitted. “You can tell Naomi. I still serve God, but I don’t serve the Church.”

Hester laughed. “You serve _him_,” she accused, looking over at Dean, disgusted.

“Hey,” Dean said, a little defensively, a little angrily. “Cas is his own boss.”

“The moment Castiel laid a hand on you he was lost,” Hester hissed. “He’s going to burn in Hell because of _you, _Dean Winchester. Do you feel any remorse? He’s losing his home, his family, and now his eternal soul because of _your _influence.” Dean’s shoulders squared—intent, no doubt, on arguing that point.

“Hester, please,” Cas snapped. He didn’t want to fight; it was pointless. “I’m not going to marry Daphne. I can’t live a lie.” That in itself was a sin. Hester’s jaw clamped tight, but she seemed to understand. “I am…I’m still one of you,” Cas offered. “But I can’t obey blindly.” Not anymore. Not after all that had happened.

“You don’t have to marry Daphne,” Hester invented wildly, as she didn’t have that power. But, she was probably correct—Heaven was in need of good soldiers. They could always try to re-educate him, though it hadn’t worked for Anna. “You just have to choose. Us or him.” Cas took in a breath. He couldn’t put that burden on Dean.

“I can’t serve the Church,” he repeated. It’s all he could say.

Hester nodded, disappointed but as though it was something she’d expected. She walked out of his life then, leaving no sign she’d ever entered it but Cas’s racing heart. He took it for as close as he would ever get to a blessing from anyone in the Church.

“Screw her, you don’t owe them an explanation,” Dean seethed, but he sounded shaken. Cas was surprised and he turned to look at Dean. “I have about a dozen names I could call her but I wanna spare your ears, Cas.”

“She’s right,” Cas said softly.

“Like _hell _she is,” Dean said, almost yelling. “You might believe in a God that gives a crap about what happens in your bedroom, but _I _don’t.”

“You have no faith, Dean,” Cas said, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “But I still believe.”

“Okay, well, where is He?” Dean asked. “If He gives a shit about all this, then why the hell isn’t He striking her down with a lightning bolt?” Dean was being needlessly cruel.

“Because she’s _right,” _Cas snapped. “The question you should be asking is why God allows _me_ to persist when all I’ve done is fail Him.” He choked out, “Fail you.”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said, looking uncomfortable and sad.

“And Dean, I no longer _care_,” Cas went on because he suddenly couldn’t stop. “Because I see a path with you to do real good in this world that I _never_ saw in the Church. Because I can’t believe in a church that would condemn you and I can’t—I can’t accept a God that would do the same. She’s _right,_ Dean.” Dean nodded. Cas didn’t normally raise his voice.

“Cas, give it to me straight, okay?” Dean said quietly. “Did they approach you with that deal because—because they saw us together?” Cas couldn’t put that on Dean, but he couldn’t lie either. Dean’s face fell. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I dragged you into this.”

“This was already who I am, Dean,” Cas said. “I was never really…the perfect soldier. I had doubts.” Dean had helped him see it, helped him find conviction to stand alone. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, it was his inspiration.

“Cas, you working tomorrow?” Dean asked suddenly.

“…No,” Cas answered cautiously, not sure what Dean was driving at.

“The day after that?” Dean pressed. Cas opened his mouth. “Jesus Christ,” Dean moaned, just now realizing that Cas was completely unemployed. “I really screwed you over, didn’t I?”

“Those were my decisions,” Cas said. “Bad decisions, perhaps, but they certainly aren’t your responsibility.” Dean didn’t believe him.

“I’m poison, Cas,” he said, almost laughing. He looked at Cas sadly. “I can’t stay.” Cas gaped.

“You just arrived,” he said uselessly.

“I’m sorry, Cas…for everything,” Dean said. “I’ll send you some money, I swear, so you can graduate without worrying too much. I owe you that. But this—you and me?” He gestured between them. “It has no future. Not one where I don’t screw you over. I’m not going to drag you down with me.”

“So, what, this is—goodbye?” Cas pressed. Dean hesitated, but nodded all the same. They had just reunited and the disappointment choked Cas.

“I know,” Dean sighed, stressed. “Shit timing. But I swear, Cas—you _can’t _go back to them.” And he was right, Cas knew. But still, there was nothing Cas could say…Even after all these years, he was not used to having the rug pulled out from under him. He hadn’t asked for all this. Dean gave Cas one last ride back to his apartment, and then he left Rexford for good.

*

Dean didn’t return Cas’s phone calls. Given that Cas had quit his job, he had little to do but study and call. At one point, Dean’s number went out of service. That hurt. Some mysterious benefactor had paid off Cas’s rent for the next few months, but that wasn’t what Castiel needed.

Still, knowing Dean had taught Castiel some detective skills, which Castiel intended to employ for the rest of his life with or without Dean’s approval. His finals had concluded just the night before and he had days ahead with nothing to spend them on while he waited for his grades to come back. He took that as his opportunity.

He wasn’t searching for Dean in order to…reclaim some shred of romance. Or even friendship. If Dean didn’t want to see Castiel, there was nothing Castiel could or should do to change his mind. But Castiel felt he was entitled to at least an explanation. Owed at least a proper goodbye. He could get that, at least, and move on.

Which was why he found himself in California, walking down the courtyards and halls of the university, searching through the dormitories and asking about the Winchester brother. He lucked out eventually, asking a tall young woman with curly hair about Sam’s location. He was about as honest with her as he could stand to be, given that other than Sam’s infamous height he knew little else how to describe him, and she pointed him over to the boy.

“Sam Winchester?” Cas asked, still uncertain.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sam greeted. He didn’t resemble his brother much, but Cas could see a bit of John in him, the eyes and mouth. He was taller than both of them, and quite young—in his late teens or early twenties.

“I’m, I’m a friend of your brother’s,” Castiel explained. “My name is Castiel. Dean went on a hunt, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“If you’re his friend, you know he does that,” Sam replied cautiously. “What do you want with Dean? How do you know him?”

“I…it’s a long story,” Cas admitted.

“Do you think he’s in trouble?” Sam asked.

“Oh, doubtlessly,” Cas replied, almost laughing. That was just par for the course. Castiel’s honest but flippant response did not garner the desired effect.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t have a lot of time to spare, I have a bunch of finals next week.”

“So did I,” Cas offered. “I mean—I finished my last exam yesterday.” Sam looked him over, perhaps considering the likelihood that a Masters or PhD student would have many exams. Castiel was done feeling ashamed about it. “He isn’t answering his phone and I think he might have gotten rid of it,” he said. “I don’t know how else to get in contact with him except through you.”

“He’s avoiding you,” Sam said, eyes cold. “Why should I tell you where he is?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Cas said, feeling a little hurt even though he knew Sam was right, he was being careful. “Just tell him…tell him that I…” the words dried up in Cas’s mouth. What was there to say? How could Cas tell Sam what Dean meant to him without also revealing something about Dean? “Let me speak to him, I just need to talk to him for a few minutes.” Sam stared at Castiel quietly for a moment. “I know I’m asking a lot of you,” Cas said. “But I have…I have no one else to ask.” Sam was silent a second longer.

“Why is he avoiding you?” he asked, but he was considering Castiel seriously.

“It’s…it’s a long story,” Cas said.

Sam was quiet again. “I’m going to drop off a paper at my professor’s office,” he said. “Can you tell me on the way?” Cas nodded. He knew the only way he could win Sam’s trust was by being truthful. Similar to Dean, in that respect.

“I met…Dean in a very strange time in my life,” Cas started. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You can start with how you know about me,” Sam said, full of caution still.

“He told me about you,” Cas replied. “It might have been the first or second time we met…he was hunting ghosts in my town and well…our paths crossed.”

“So, you know about…” Sam said.

“Dean’s work,” Cas concluded. “That he’s a hunter. Yes.” 

Sam nodded. Then he sneezed something that sounded remarkably like, _“Cristo.”_

“Bless you,” Castiel offered.

“Thanks,” Sam replied, looking uncertain. “Could you give me your arm?” he asked. “Hold this.” He gave Castiel his paper and took Castiel’s free arm into his hand. Sam raised an eyebrow as he fixed a cautious look on Cas, gripping his wrist. “I’m going to cut you with a silver knife.”

“Excuse me?” Cas asked, Sam’s matter-of-fact tone the only thing that kept Cas from jerking away from him. Seeing Sam was determined, and that the hallway they were in was empty, Cas consented.

“Sorry,” Sam said, with a little wince of sympathy, drawing a blade he’d had perfectly concealed across Cas’s skin.

“You’re trying to see if I’m human,” Cas realized as Sam pulled away, leaving behind the injury.

“Yeah,” Sam said apologetically.

“What else can I do to prove that?” Cas asked, pressing his hand to his small wound, and he was undeniably curious. Sam laughed a little awkwardly.

“Uh, if you got any salt or Holy Water on you, that’d do the trick,” he said.

“Sorry,” Cas said. “Perhaps we can stop by a church?”

“You said Dean talked about me,” Sam said, seeming to decide that he trusted Castiel, at least to an extent. “What did he say?”

Cas considered. “That you were going to Stanford to be a lawyer, obviously, that you…didn’t like to hunt the way he does, or perhaps the way he feels he ought to,” he murmured. “But, it was clear to me that he loves you,” Cas said, smiling to himself. “He talked about you often.” In the next moment, Cas was up against the wall, the taller Winchester’s elbow digging into his chest, near his throat.

“You don’t know him,” Sam said. “That’s not—that’s not my brother.”

Cas gaped. He grasped Sam’s arms. “Perhaps it’s more important you talk to him than me,” Cas said, feeling more sympathetic than fearful. He knew Sam. “Because whenever we spoke, it was clear. He loves you more than anything, Sam. He feels guilty that he left you, and he’s proud of you.”

“Sure he is,” Sam dared. His eyes shone like he was about to cry. “He’s still hunting with dad, isn’t he?”

“I…don’t like your father, Sam,” Cas said, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to offend. “I’m not sure that Dean likes him much either.” Sam laughed sharply, but his arm was still pressed on Castiel’s chest. “Sam, the only reason he hasn’t contacted you is because he feels on some level that you shouldn’t want him in your life, that you’re better off without him.”

“I—” Sam said, eyes wet, shining with guilt. He let go of Castiel and turned away from him. Cas heard a sniffing sound. “Okay,” Sam spoke up, still not facing Castiel. When he turned back to Cas, his eyes were a little red, a little watery, but his jaw was set in a determined line. “Okay, I’ll call him.”

Dean answered the phone almost immediately. He and Sam bandied awkward words between them, until at last they came to some sort of agreement about where to meet each other. Sam, though cautious at first, seemed to melt with relief at hearing his brother’s voice. When he ended the call, he looked thoughtfully at Castiel.

“You didn’t mention me,” Cas noticed.

“I figured, if he was avoiding me because he felt like I deserved better,” Sam said, flipping his cellphone shut and slipping into his pocket, “you and him might have a similar situation.”

“He thinks he’s putting me in danger,” Cas agreed sourly, though he felt relieved that Sam trusted him. “Perhaps he is,” Cas allowed. “I don’t much mind.” Sam was quiet for a moment.

“Dean’s never going to stop hunting,” he said. “Cas…I don’t know how much you know about our family but…me and Dean were kind of raised in this life. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Your mother,” Cas said gently. “I know. She was taken by supernatural evil.” Sam was frowning, eyebrows raised with something vulnerable, almost childlike.

“Dean told you about that?” he asked. Castiel felt like he had intruded on something sacred, even if Dean had invited him to.

“Not much,” Cas said. “Just that it was a demon.” He was still proving himself to Sam. “That he was very young when it happened.” He looked over Sam, who was tall, muscular, and couldn’t have been much older than twenty. “You must have still been a baby.” Sam looked down at the floor between them.

“Our dad—is obsessed with hunting the demon that killed her,” he said. Cas nodded and Sam met his gaze, eyebrows knitted together with concern. “This stuff is dangerous, Cas. If you can avoid this life, you probably should.”

“I know,” Cas allowed. “I just don’t want to avoid Dean.”

Sam nodded slowly. Then he glanced away. “Does Dean really talk about me that much?” he asked quietly. His voice was gentle.

“Of course he does,” Cas said. “Your brother loves you, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I just…” he laughed sadly. “We’ve barely spoken in years.” Cas nodded.

“That could be changed,” he offered. Sam nodded again, considering Castiel’s words.

“I’m going to meet Dean in Sioux Falls in two weeks,” he said at last. “At a Biggerson’s. Can you make it?”

“I can make it,” Cas nodded, resolute. “Thank you, Sam.” Sam nodded. “I am…surprised you trust me.”

“I don’t really,” Sam said. “But if you’re a problem, me and Dean can take care of you.” Cas took in a breath, surprised, but not all that surprised. And he was humbled to see Sam and Dean’s loyalty and confidence in each other. He nodded and Sam gave him a small, tense smile.

“Hey, Cas…no offense, but are you and my brother…” he trailed off, uncertain. After a moment’s hesitation, he concluded, “Are you together?”

“No,” Cas said, because that was true and anything beyond that was something Dean deserved to tell his brother. Castiel was surprised to see that he was not as disturbed by the question as he had been in the past. Still, he was curious. “What makes you think that?”

“Sorry,” Sam said, a little sheepish. “I didn’t…you’re just, you’re doing a lot for him.”

“He did a lot for me,” Cas replied. Sam didn’t say anything in response. He wrote down his phone number for Cas and Cas did the same, wishing him good luck on his finals. From there, he could do little but wait.


	5. for the sweetest second it’s you and me

Two weeks came and went without incident. Cas graduated with his degree after so many years and felt little difference for it. When the time came, he donned his trench coat, bundled all he cared to own into one suitcase, and waited for Sam to pick him up as Sam had agreed to give Cas a ride. Along with Sam’s friend Jessica, who owned the car, they travelled from Idaho to South Dakota. Except for conversations carried solely by the strength of Jessica’s good humour, the ride was tense and silent.

When they arrived, they waited in the parking lot with some nervousness. Jessica and Castiel both sat in the car while Sam fretted, leaning on the hood. Eventually, Castiel saw Dean’s trademark black car roll into the parking lot, and his heart leapt into his throat. Dean pulled up in a stall across from them, and he emerged, smiling.

_ “Sam?” _Castiel could read on Dean’s lips, his eyebrows raising and expression giving way to cautious delight. Sam gave a little grin in response. Dean all but sprinted over to his brother, pulling him into a hug. Jessica rolled the window down with a conspiratorial glance at Castiel. “Damn, it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Hey, did you get shorter?”

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean shot back, shoving Sam bodily. Sam laughed.

“Jerk,” he replied. Dean’s grin broadened.

“Who’d you bring?” he asked, looking over Sam’s shoulder to the interior of the car. He saw Jessica first, given that she was in the front seat. He whistled. “You know, I gotta tell you—you are _completely _out of my brother’s league.” Sam seemed irritated, Jess a little confused, and then Dean noticed Castiel.

“Cas?” he asked, stunned. Dean glanced between his brother and Castiel, likely not sure who to focus on. He settled on Cas. “What the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t seem angry, just surprised, but it certainly wasn’t an encouraging response. Cas slid awkwardly out of the backseat to stand outside, squinting at Dean.

“We gave him a ride,” Sam explained, looking a little amused.

“You two have much to talk about, but is it alright if I stay?” Cas asked, trapped between feeling timid and determined.

Dean sighed. “Okay,” he said warily, indicating with a twist of his neck that they were headed elsewhere. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

They entered the diner, and Dean and Sam launched back into discussion, awkward at first, and then warmer as time went on. Cas didn’t mind being a third wheel, though Jessica was noticeably better at contributing to the conversation than he was. He listened to them talk and enjoyed their happiness and the relief it brought.

Jessica eventually pulled Cas along with her to the bathroom—for reasons beyond Cas’s understanding, given that they couldn’t use the same washroom, but it was clear she was giving Sam and Dean time to talk. As much as Cas had orchestrated this for himself…it was infinitely more important that Sam and Dean make amends, which, with a smile, Jess noted was happening.

Their meal landed somewhere between lunch and dinner, and afterwards the four of them piled out into the parking lot. “Me and Jess are gonna head over to Bobby’s now,” Sam said at last, and Castiel could recognize that he was politely stepping out on Castiel’s behalf. “We’re spending the night and driving back in the morning.”

“Right,” Dean said. “I’m headed south. Dad found a case I’m gonna take care of.” Sam nodded, and seemed to take the mention of his father like a blow. But still, he stood.

“Maybe you can come up to Stanford one of these days…check out my dorm,” Sam said. He sounded hopeful.

“That sounds good, Sammy.” Dean admitted. “Listen I—” he looked away.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, reaching over to pull Dean into a hug. He patted Dean’s back. “I’ll see you around. I just can’t…I can’t hunt anymore. I’m done with that life. For good.” Jess inclined her head with some curiosity and Cas looked her over quietly. She may one day know all there was to know about the Winchesters, and Cas wasn’t able to say if that was a good thing or not.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with his brother. His expression was gentle. If he respected Sam’s stance now, Cas couldn’t know, but he was certainly willing to overlook it. “Hey. You call me, okay?”

“I will,” Sam promised.

“You too,” Dean winked at Jess. She waved goodbye to him and Cas and headed back to her car. Sam smirked.

Then he turned to Cas with a thoughtful expression. “Do you want me to stay?” In case Dean rejected Castiel again. Cas opened his mouth, finding it dry.

At last he said, “I can find my way back.” Sam nodded, and then awkwardly ambled over to Castiel to give him a brief, secure hug before climbing into Jess’s car and pulling out of the parking lot. Dean was silent for a moment as they watched Sam and his girlfriend disappear into the horizon. Then, at last, he turned to Castiel.

“Okay, seriously Cas, what is going on?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you here?”

“I couldn’t get into contact with you,” Cas said honestly. “I wanted to…I _had_ to at least see you again.” Dean looked dismayed. Castiel knew he was being pathetic, but it was alright. He’d gotten to see Dean again, and Dean looked well.

“I graduated,” Cas offered.

“Congratulations, Cas,” Dean said. At this, he looked genuinely pleased. “What’s next?”

“I was never going to use this degree,” Cas said honestly. “I just wanted to understand a little more about the world. And I wanted to achieve something for myself, independent of my family.” He drank in the sight of Dean, unashamed. “Those things are true of my relationship with you, as well.”

“Cas,” Dean said. He seemed uncomfortable, but perhaps not because of the nature of Castiel’s feelings, but their intensity. That was understandable.

“The moments we’ve shared have changed me,” Cas said. He couldn’t go back to who he had been before he met Dean; he didn’t want to. He frowned and took the risk. “I want to be a hunter.”

“No way, Cas,” Dean insisted, seemingly horrified. “I can’t put that on you.”

“You aren’t. I _want_ to hunt, to help people. But I also want—” Cas cut himself off. “To be useful. To you,” he clarified. Then he admitted the real reason why he had come, because if he had only wanted to hunt, he could have done just that. “Even if you don’t feel the same way…I still want to be in your life.” Dean’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“No, you don’t,” he said.

“Dean,” Cas said, frustrated because it wasn’t true.

“I mean—this!” Dean yelled, jabbing his thumb at his chest. “Me, Cas! You don’t want me! What you see is _not _what you get—you’re lookin’ at the tip of a very shitty iceberg.” Castiel already knew Dean thought lowly of himself, but surely it was clear that Cas wouldn’t be deterred.

“I never wanted.” Cas drew nearer and Dean backed up to preserve the distance between them, like they were the same poles on different magnets. “Not really. Not until you.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. “Dude, your family screwed you over so hard because you like guys and I don’t want—your first time should be with an _actual _man.”

“You’re a man,” Cas said, squinting at Dean, a little bemused. He eyed Dean with suspicion.

“I _am,”_ Dean said emphatically. “I just mean. A _normal _guy, Cas. Someone with the parts, you know? Not—God, Cas.” He pulled at his clothes, hands a little shaky. He caught Cas’s eye. “When all this comes off…you’re not gonna want me.”

“I will,” Cas said, surprised.

“You _won’t_,” Dean said firmly, though his voice was a little shaky. “Because _I_ don’t want me. I don’t _want_ to be wanted like that. Like I’m a chick.” Cas let out a puff of air, caught between exasperation and relief, because he could at least understand the stem of Dean’s anxieties, even if he couldn’t understand the anxieties themselves.

“I want you however you’ll give yourself to me,” Cas said at last, finding safety in these words. “If that’s just as friends, then I’ll be proud to call you that.” The look in Dean’s eyes melted to something thoughtful, slightly sad.

“You _are_ my friend,” Cas pressed on. “And if it’s something else, something more, I—” Cas couldn’t even imagine what something more would be; he knew only that he wanted it more than anything. “You have me, Dean. You already have me.” Dean _had _to have known.

Dean’s hands had found the edges of the car, clenching his fists tightly beneath his knuckles, shutting his eyes. He took in a sharp breath. “Okay,” he said, opening his green eyes again to look over at Cas, tentative.

Cas took a chance and stepped closer. Dean bit his lip and Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pressing his skull against Dean’s. Dean was still for a moment and then stood up, pulling Cas against him in a proper hug, solid and warm and intoxicating.

“You’re a stupid bastard, you know that, right?” Dean asked, hesitant. “‘Cause you don’t—you don’t get to call it quits, okay? You gotta—you gotta stick with me, alright? At least for this hunt.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” Cas promised solemnly, breathing Dean in. Dean tugged him closer.

“Sorry I screwed up,” he muttered into Cas’s neck. “Messed up everything with you and your family, your job.”

“I screw up, too,” Cas replied, gripping him tight. “Often and profoundly. Give me the chance, and I promise I’ll do so again.” Dean laughed and pulled away a little to look at Cas, a thoughtful smile on his face. His green eyes were wide and he looked a little uncertain, but not fearful.

“Alright Cas,” he said. “What now? Where to?”

Cas smiled, letting the stress that had exhausted him for what felt like the past few months just melt away. Dean knew that answer better than Castiel. Or—perhaps he didn’t. All the same, when Cas reclaimed his seat on the passenger’s side and Dean shifted gears to begin their drive to their next adventure, they didn’t look back.

*

After a day on the road, they pulled into a motel parking lot not far from the case Dean’s father had found. Dean suspected it was ghosts and, on their way, he reinstructed Castiel on how to defeat them. He seemed excited to have a partner to hunt with. Digging up graves was apparently quite taxing to do on one’s own. Castiel was looking forward to spending time with Dean as well.

“One room,” Dean said to the receptionist. Castiel set down the bags he’d unearthed from the trunk and studied the flyers on the wall.

“Two singles?” the woman at the desk asked, glancing between Cas and Dean, studying them. Cas noticed her posture was guarded, and he felt a chill of discomfort overtake him. It quickly became apparent she was making certain assumptions on purpose. Dean cleared his throat a little, looking down at the desk.

“Yeah,” he said. Castiel walked over to the side to pick up a travel brochure, thumbing through it. They’d moved from small town to small town.

“Alright, I have a room with two beds on the second floor,” the woman said.

“We’ll take it,” Dean grinned at her. That same charm he’d turned on Castiel was apparently ubiquitous. Well, it wasn’t as though they’d ever taken a room with a single bed. No sense they would have to start now.

“You guys just passing through?” the woman asked, her voice suddenly much lighter. Castiel glanced up to see her push her straight brown hair behind her shoulder, eyeing Dean with interest.

“Yeah,” Dean said, relaxing a little under the positive attention. “Road-trip. My buddy here just graduated.” He walked over in Castiel’s direction, grasping the muscle between Cas’s shoulder and neck in some show of camaraderie.

“Oh, really?” the receptionist asked. She was smiling in earnest. “What from?” Cas glanced at Dean who raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Physics,” Castiel said, looking back at the woman and away from Dean.

“Wow,” the woman said, and there was that usual sense of intimidation that some people had, like physics was some alien thing.

“So, as you can guess, he needs to unwind his entire roll,” Dean grinned. His hand was still on Cas’s body, but the friendliness of his palm stung.

“And what’s next for you?” the woman asked, putting her elbows up on her desk, leaning in. She was younger than Cas had initially thought, with pretty eyes looking between him and Dean.

“I don’t know,” Cas said, and his voice broke. He blinked and gently shrugged off Dean’s hand. “What’s the room number?” he asked. The receptionist seemed surprised by his abruptness.

“Room 203,” she replied, turning behind her to grab the key. She handed it to Castiel.

“I’ll carry the luggage upstairs,” Castiel told Dean, unable to look at him. He could see Dean nod reluctantly in his peripheral. Cas grabbed the luggage off the floor and left. As he stepped out the door, he overheard Dean tell the receptionist he would just pay for the night, and then—Dean’s beautiful laughter.

Upstairs, Castiel chose a bed and laid his belongings across it. His tan trench coat, the one suit that fit him, and a few changes of shirts. Briefs, socks, a few of his favourite, lighter, books…including the Feynman book. Dean had borrowed a few other books from Cas, but Feynman’s lectures had been his favourite. He had left little observations in pencil in the margins of the text. Questions, jokes. Not always about physics.

Here too was the mixtape Dean had given Cas, by now listened to the point of rote memorization since, in the days between seeing Dean, this had been all Cas’d had of him. Cas had put so much onto Dean, unfairly, and now he was accompanying him. The daring of this venture seemed to shrink beneath the faint glow of the motel’s flickering bulbs. He felt less like a partner, more like an inefficient, troublesome squire.

This was Castiel’s world now, condensed onto one bed. Castiel had always led a somewhat Spartan lifestyle…worldly possessions had been frowned upon and that now meant Castiel packed lightly. The convenience of picking up his life and leaving so easily might have come back to bite Castiel. He had no idea what he was doing here.

Dean came in the room with a ten minute or so lag behind Castiel. He might have been working with the car, he might have been talking to the receptionist. “Getting set up?” he asked, shrugging off his leather jacket. Cas’s throat felt too tight to answer. Instead, he got a change of clothes together—a crumpled shirt, clean underwear, socks, a pair of comfortable pants.

Dean walked over to his own bed, throwing down his bag and opening it up. Inside, Castiel saw, was his usual array of weapons, as well as a spare shirt. Dean packed even lighter than Castiel.

“You were flirting with the receptionist,” Cas noted.

“I,” Dean started, looking guilty. “Force of habit.” He grinned sheepishly. Cas understood.

He had another observation. “She thought you and I were together, at first.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Yeah, she did.” Cas nodded. They had two beds.

“She was…pretty." That hurt the most to say.

“Thought you didn’t swing that way, Cas,” Dean grinned, unaffected. Castiel felt close to crying.

“I’m tired,” he said instead. “Dirty. I’m going to take a shower.” Dean’s eyes were thoughtful on him, confused. But Cas didn’t have any answers for him.

He walked inside the bathroom with his change of clothes. He set the clothes to rest up on the sink and found the complimentary shampoo and soap. He didn’t spend long in the shower, not wanting Dean to have reason to question him.

Dressing, Cas looked at his reflection in the unwashed mirror. He was twenty-eight years old, with a degree in physics and not much else to show for himself, on the road with no job, no family, just a man he’d insinuated himself on. And he looked tired. Older than he was. Wrinkled and wan, hair sticking up in all directions from towelling himself dry.

“Lookin’ good, Cas,” Dean wolf-whistled when Cas stepped back out into the bedroom. He had unpacked himself on the other bed, and was laying down on it, comfortable. Cas didn’t believe him, but he offered an admittedly weak smile, wandering over to his bed and moving his clothes onto the chair.

“I was thinking, uh—we could head out to the neighborhood in the morning,” Dean suggested, getting to his feet. “Ask the locals what they’ve seen. You’ve got the fed suit, right?”

“Yes,” Cas said quietly.

“Your fake badge is crap, but it’ll pass. We can hit up Bobby’s afterwards,” Dean went on. “There ain’t a document inside the United States that that man hasn’t forged at one point or another.” He chuckled. Cas nodded, unable to trust his voice.

“Right,” Dean said. “I’m gonna. Wash up and hit the sheets.” Cas closed his eyes. Dean let out a sigh and left Cas behind. When Dean re-emerged from the bathroom, Castiel was already pretending to be asleep.

*

The hunt had been ugly. Both Dean and Castiel had survived, and neither were injured beyond the sizeable bump Castiel had received on his skull. Overall, Castiel had helped more than hindered, but a flaw in the salt circle he’d drawn had left both Dean and him vulnerable. Fortunately, Dean had saved the day and Castiel. Well, Castiel had been there to witness it.

Really, what had hurt about this hunt was the spirits. To see these lost souls denied paradise after the brutality in their life had tethered them to the earth, time driving them mad with rage and loneliness. They had been children. When burned, their bones had been so small, delicate like china beneath the floorboards.

Castiel and Dean were quiet as they left the house. They walked over to where Dean’s car was parked on the abandoned street, Castiel too upset to speak. Not much could silence Dean, though. He vibrated with discontent like a candle in a busy room. “So, the honeymoon’s over already?” he burst out with a stressed sigh before Castiel could open his door.

Cas took a moment to compose himself. He felt tired, lonely, and unbearably guilty. And he could bear it all if it meant being by Dean’s side, but it was clear that Dean couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let him. “What do you mean?” Cas asked at last, turning to look at Dean properly.

“I mean, you’ve been avoiding me since the moment we landed,” Dean replied, tone fraught with irritation and worry. “You can barely look at me, man. I mean, I’m sorry. You know I am.” He glanced away from Castiel, eyes red and bordering on tearful. He was upset.

Concern clenching his throat, Castiel walked over to him and Dean again avoided his gaze. “I don’t regret following you, Dean,” Cas reminded him softly. “I owe you a great deal.”

“You don’t owe me _jack,”_ Dean stumbled. “I screwed up your life, remember?” Dean had saved Castiel’s life, given him one.

“Really, it’s _you _who shouldn’t feel obligated to…to humour me,” Cas spat out. Dean blinked. His eyes looked greener against the redness.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he slurred. Cas had wanted to avoid this, let this run its course unspoken. It was only a matter of time before Dean tired of Castiel.

“I’m a burden, Dean,” Cas explained. A drain on Dean’s resources, on Dean’s time, his freedom, his safety.

“Cas, you were _good _on that hunt,” Dean insisted. He was lying, or at the very least exaggerating for Cas’s benefit.

“I nearly got the two of us killed,” Cas reminded him. He’d had some quick thoughts, but in this line of work you only need to make one mistake, and he’d made several. Dean would have chewed him out about them—_if _they had been speaking to each other.

Still, Dean excused him. “You’re new. And if you hadn’t come, I probably _would’ve _been killed.” Castiel was skeptical but he could appreciate Dean’s kindness.

“And you know,” Dean confided, “undead preschoolers is _not_ the way I wanna go.” Something in Castiel’s chest held tight because Dean was so easy to laugh with, even at the darkest of times, but he couldn’t. Dean continued, softer this time, “They’re at peace now, Cas. I know it’s crappy, but you did them a favour.”

“I know,” Cas said quietly.

“Plus, you’ve been acting like this since before the hunt. So give it to me straight, okay?” Dean frowned. “If you want out I’ll…I’ll help get you set up.” This wasn’t the first time Dean had made that offer.

“That isn’t it,” was all Cas could say. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Dean.

“Then what the hell is it, man?” Dean called out, suddenly angry.

Castiel suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn’t simply that Dean had flirted with the receptionist to protect his ego, or because he’d forgotten Castiel. It was clear that Dean regarded Castiel highly, perhaps even desired him, to an extent. But the receptionist had eyed them with suspicion, they _were _suspicious. And that was not what Dean needed in his already dangerous life.

“The receptionist thought we were together,” Cas reminded Dean. And Dean’s eyebrows raised as he understood.

“I hunt monsters for a living, Cas,” he said softly. “I can handle a few hicks.” But Dean hadn’t. Dean seemed to realize this too. “Okay, I don’t know how to do this, Cas. I don’t typically do long-term, and never with a guy, so…I don’t know, alright? But it’s worth a shot.” He hesitated, wetting his lips with his tongue, uncertain. “Right?” Castiel couldn’t say anything to that.

Dean leaned against his vehicle, looking over the empty street. “I just don’t wanna do this on my own, Cas,” he said, voice cracking.

Ah, so that was it. Dean was lonely and Cas was a balm. “You don’t have to,” Cas said quietly. “Your father, your brother…you could meet a hunter who’s a woman…” he was sure they existed. “Or a woman, generally.” And who wouldn’t want Dean, wouldn’t love him?

“Okay,” Dean said firmly, reaching out to grab Cas’s shoulder, cutting him off. “Screw it. I don’t wanna do this without _you_. Got it?” Cas didn’t. He just looked at Dean, flushed with discomfort, and Dean limped onwards in Castiel’s silence.

“Every time I left town and I went on hunts I’d be thinking about you,” he confessed, embarrassed but angry. “About coming back. Because we had a movie to finish, or I had a question about your books. And I don’t know how else to say it but it’s just not the same without you.” Dean blinked. “I can’t go back, Cas.”

Cas looked down at the ground between them. He hadn’t known that their relationship had mattered that much to Dean. He had hoped, suspected. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“Damn it,” Dean swore, voice choked, reaching up to run his hands through the back of his hair, turning to face away from Castiel. He cleared his throat, taking a breath. “Okay,” he said, turning back to Castiel. He was sad, angry, Castiel could tell, but he’d composed himself. “Okay, what do you want to do?” he asked.

What did he want? He wanted Dean to be happy. He wanted Dean to be free, to have a partner that was a woman, or at least have a life free of hunting. And he wanted Dean. He wanted to be the one to bring Dean peace and he knew, by definition, that he couldn’t.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. Dean scoffed.

“Of _course, _it matters,” he seethed, as though he had been tortured by Castiel’s inaction. “So, _spill_. I’m not your church. I’m not gonna get pissed at you speaking your mind. So _say _it, whatever it is. Just _say it_.”

“I want you,” Cas said. Dean’s eyes opened wide.

“Sure got a funny way of showing it, Cas,” Dean said, still a little angry, but his tone was lighter, confused. Cas felt ashamed. He’d already caused Dean more grief than he deserved. “Hey, hey, hey!” Dean barked, ducking down to chase Cas’s eyeline. “Don’t shut down. You were gonna tell me something.”

“Dean, I can’t give you what you deserve,” Cas snapped. “I can’t give you a normal life, and I’m hardly a help on your hunts. What use am I if I can’t even—” Dean, fond of interrupting Cas, grabbed Castiel’s collar and then his jaw, leaning down to kiss him. And Castiel, all too human, forgot his misgivings and reached back.

They’d kissed only twice before and Castiel found he had been missing it. Dean’s lips, sure and practiced, his arms wrapped around Castiel’s waist, tugging him near. He was so close, and still Castiel desperately chased him, head swimming. The smell of Dean’s aftershave, the leather of his jacket, and the warm, solid feeling of Dean’s body with no space between them.

Dean gave Castiel one last kiss and pulled away, gripping Castiel tight to keep him from pursuing his mouth. “You were _good_ on the hunt, Cas,” Dean said. “Ain’t the first time a hunter got knocked on his ass, alright?” His lips shone and Castiel couldn’t care anymore if Dean was lying to protect his feelings.

“Don’t patronize me,” Cas said, voice coming out more as a growl. He pushed Dean up against his car, grinding against him, and Dean made a noise like a whimper.

“Never,” Dean gasped. “Backseat, Cas. _Now.”_ Castiel let up so Dean could open the door and Dean all but shoved him inside. Cas’s hands were shaking badly with excitement and the sheer adrenaline of relief. Things were okay, they were okay. Dean followed him.

The horror of the day, of these past few months, of Castiel’s _life_ melted away under Dean’s hands. “Never done this with another guy before,” Dean mused playfully, shoving Cas against the seat, implying he'd done this with women. Cas leaned back, gripping the headrest of the seat in front of him and holding himself with his elbow as Dean sank between his legs, moving up his body to kiss him.

“Please don’t talk about your past exploits when—” he started saying when Dean interrupted him again. Cas stowed his complaints, pressing himself as snugly as he could against the seat behind him, inviting Dean further in to enter the space he’d made.

And Dean did, hand skating up Cas’s ribs, up to his chest where he gently ran his thumb across him, sure and teasing. Cas spread his legs across either side of Dean, one leg thrown awkwardly over Dean and the other cast over the edge of the seat on the floor. And this was so greedy of Castiel, to take this happiness when the world outside was so miserable. But he was selfish.

“Hang on,” Dean said suddenly, licking his lips as he moved off of Cas. His eyes were bright, shrewd. “That lady at the motel. Cas, were you _jealous?”_ Cas didn’t want to talk about it. He groaned in complaint, surging up to kiss Dean again and Dean laughed into his mouth, pushing him back down and moving south to kiss along his jaw, neck.

Dean got down to Cas’s collar when he paused, looking up at Cas with a careful look in his eye as Cas caught his breath. Dean had done this before and Cas couldn’t help but worry that he was being compared. He knew Dean wasn’t attracted to men, typically, but there wasn’t much Cas could do about that.

“I know you prefer women,” Cas murmured apologetically, feeling guilty and unattractive. Dean looked surprised. But that look settled into something determined, seductive, even.

“I prefer _you,_ Cas,” he said. “And I prefer you naked. Now, come on. Show us the goods.” His hands went to Cas’s tie, pulling it through its knots faster than Castiel ever could have. Cas, eager to be of use, went to undoing the rest of his buttons, and just in time Dean pushed his shirt open, cool air flooding across his skin.

Cas looked at Dean’s expression, caught off guard. Castiel knew this wasn’t what Dean was used to, and it wasn’t as though Dean seem uninterested. Instead, Dean seemed almost…envious, running his palm across the flat of Castiel’s chest. But a small smirk crossed Dean’s lips, presently, his thumb catching on Castiel’s nipple. He wanted him.

“What about you?” Cas asked, a little desperately. He looked down from Dean’s eyes to his mouth, to his throat, moving as Dean took in breaths.

“The shirt stays,” Dean refused firmly, sitting back a little. “I don’t wanna get into it right now,” Dean cleared his throat. Cas listened. “And that’s kind of hard to do with my shirt off.”

“You know, it’s not a problem for me,” Cas said, in case Dean had forgotten, sitting up slightly.

“Yeah, well, it’s a problem for me,” Dean shot back. Cas nodded. It was clear that Dean was going to be less comfortable shirtless in front of Castiel than not.

“One of these years I’m gonna get the paperwork forged and get surgery,” Dean spoke up, leaning back slightly and licking his lips and glancing away. “I’ve just…never had the time. Takes months to heal up afterwards and you know my line of work. It’s been hard to justify ever taking that time off.”

“If it would make your life easier,” Cas said, trying to be encouraging as his heart rate slowed down to a more reasonable pace, “that’s justification enough.”

“Hell yeah it would make my life easier,” Dean said, looking up at Cas, grinning. “Binders friggin’ _kill_ when you’re running. Worse than smoking. But, you need someone to basically wipe your ass during recovery and that’s just,” he made a clicking noise with his tongue, looking grim. “Not my style.”

“Right,” Cas said, smiling a little.

“Cas, whatever you’re thinking, _don’t,”_ Dean said. “I’m glad you’re sticking around but I’m not gonna ask that of you.” Dean didn’t have to.

At first, Castiel almost regretted having asked to touch Dean, afraid that he’d made him uncomfortable, but he could see now it wasn’t the case and he understood Dean a little better. He wanted to know more. “Can I touch you?” Cas asked again. Dean’s eyes widened, mouth sliding open a little. He chuckled then, moving in closer.

“One thing at a time, virgin,” he lectured, the word coming out as an insult, even though Dean spoke affectionately. “Let’s take care of _you _first.” Take care of him.

“Dean,” Cas spoke up, reaching to grip Dean’s arm, feeling nervous.

“Not saving yourself for Jesus, right?” Dean asked, hesitating momentarily. Cas was beyond worrying about anything like that. He’d been chaste his entire life, and he could be chaste for the remainder of it. But this didn’t feel like a sin and if it was, and Dean was a sinner, Castiel already intended on following Dean wherever Dean would lead him, peacefully and with no regrets. Still…

“What about you?” Cas pressed. Dean could leave Castiel behind the next day and Cas wouldn’t blame him, but if he was taking Cas on, truly taking him on, he was taking on yet another weight. “Your father doesn’t hold me in particularly high regard.” Cas could list countless reasons why Dean might not want to go through with this. There would be no coming back from it.

“Screw him,” Dean said, easily. “He still doesn’t know I met up with Sam.” Cas nodded jerkily. He felt like he could tremble right out of his skin with the way Dean was looking at him. Dean smiled then.

“Alright Cas,” he said, satisfied, “if I don’t get to talk about the girls I’ve slept with when we’re together, you _especially _don’t get to talk about my family. Deal?” Cas could only stare at him. “Okay, I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’ to save on time,” Dean decided, beginning again.

Dean put his arm around Cas’s shoulder so Cas could rest his head against Dean. Shifting until they got in a position they both were comfortable in, Dean glanced at Cas and reached for his zipper. Cas let out a small gasp of surprise as Dean got his pants undone and he shifted his hips to help Dean drag the pants down his waist. More skin bare, Dean’s hand returned to Castiel, holding onto the meat of his thigh, hot and nearly electric.

“Okay, keep in mind I don’t mess around with a lot of dudes,” Dean said, going back on their agreement. _“Any_ dudes, Cas,” Dean said. For all Dean’s confidence, in many ways this was a first for him as well. Dean glanced down. “What I mean is, you gotta be chatty, alright? Tell me what you’re into.”

Cas blinked. He was ‘into’ Dean, and that was about it. Dean’s eyes narrowed, and his hand trailed up Cas’s hip. “Like, you like it fast, slow? Hot, cold, nine days old?” Now Castiel really didn’t know what he meant. “I’m gonna jerk you off, Cas,” Dean said, and the way he said those words was worthy of blasphemy. But Castiel still had no idea what he was talking about.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean said, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “Tell me how you like to masturbate.”

_ “Oh!”_ Cas said, finally understanding. “I,” Cas said, clearing his throat. “I don’t, typically.” Another sin Dean took for granted. Cas _did _masturbate now, of course, but even then he often had difficulties ejaculating. Anxiety took over before he had a chance to, more often than not, and the shame that invariably followed couldn’t justify the pleasure, even as an adult, perhaps especially as an adult.

_ “Dude,”_ Dean said, sounding mystified. His hand was on Cas’s rib now, subconsciously worrying the bone there, comforting and warm. “How the hell are you so boring and so full of surprises?”

Cas felt offended. He glanced out the window, trying not to sulk. He could see Dean grin in his peripheral but when he turned to look at him, he could see the smile was sober. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Dean said, understanding. Cas looked away again. He knew he wasn’t what Dean wanted.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean said. He smiled crookedly. Then he put his hand on Castiel, through his underwear, and Cas nearly cursed. He hadn’t fully been expecting this. But when Dean set his mind to anything, Castiel knew it would get done and right now, for whatever reason, Dean’s mind was set on him.

Cas tried not to overreact as Dean carefully ran his hand alongside him, but it had been awhile since he’d touched himself. Dean was close, eyes clear and focused on Cas, pinching his lower lip between his teeth in concentration as he worked. He cupped Castiel’s genitals, gently rubbing his thumb alongside the line of Castiel’s penis, and then carefully drew Cas out of his underwear.

“Dean,” Cas murmured, reaching out to grip Dean’s shoulder. Dean glanced up at Castiel, giving him a little wink. He heard a click below, and then a slick sound of gel being pushed out of a tube. Dean gave Cas a reassuring grin and then reached down again, gripping Castiel with a cool, wet hand. _“Dean,” _Cas startled.

“Relax, buddy,” Dean grinned. “Just lube. Trust me on this.” Cas did, Castiel _did _trust Dean. He almost swore as Dean picked up a rhythm, moving his fist up and down. Embarrassingly, a sound bubbled past his lips, but Dean didn’t seem put off by it. He breathed out a quiet _“yeah,”_ and leaned in closer.

“I thought about this, you know,” Dean said, conversationally. “Gettin’ you off in my Baby.” Cas whimpered as Dean shifted, changing pace, angle, ever so slightly. “When we first met,” Dean murmured, nosing into Cas’s neck. “When I gave you my number. You should’ve called, man. I would’ve done this ages ago.”

Already then, Dean had been interested, before Castiel had even realized he was allowed to like Dean. Cas shifted his head onto the seat, looking across at Dean, at the wicked grin across his lips, and the teasing glint in his eye. He was serious. And he was beautiful.

It was getting warm in the Impala and there was a sheen of sweat and humidity building up on Dean’s skin. He freckles blended into his darkening cheeks, mouth set in a line of concentration as he worked Castiel over, hand careful but firm, and getting hotter by the second.

Castiel wanted to lean over and close the distance between them but he couldn’t help but marvel at the man laying across him. Castiel had felt incorrect, incomplete, his entire life. This was what he’d been missing. This one person he’d lost everything for, and gained everything as a reward. Dean’s cheeks were flushed, from exertion or shame, Castiel couldn’t tell.

“Cas,” Dean said, turning his head away from Cas’s by a few inches. “You mind?” It was shame, then. Castiel had been staring.

“Oh,” Cas said, averting his gaze as best he could. It was difficult though. There were few other places to look but Dean and his jaw, clenched sweetly, his arm, flexing as it moved, his hand, lower still, his wrist. Cas shut his eyes.

It felt good. It felt so good. He kept moving, bucking, chasing Dean’s hand, unconsciously. He tried to not make any noises, something he was reasonably practiced in, but it was difficult. Especially because Dean was so close, stroking him assuredly. He felt Dean sigh, a brush of air against his cheek. “Sorry Cas,” he said. “You can look. You should.”

Cas opened his eyes gingerly and there Dean was, inches away, green eyes and all. Dean glanced down to Cas’s mouth, trailing lower across Cas’s body. Cas shivered and he tailed Dean’s gaze down to his hand on Castiel. He had his fist wrapped around Castiel’s genitals, obscene and beautiful, which—Castiel had known _rationally _had been happening but he hadn’t—he hadn’t connected it to reality just yet.

Cas sighed, neck rolling so his head rested on Dean’s chest again and he could hear Dean grin above him. “That good?” Dean asked, though Castiel knew that he knew the answer. The question was obvious to the point of being rhetorical. Cas reached out, gripping Dean’s shoulder tightly, almost shuddering.

_ “Dean,” _he muttered. He hadn’t gotten this far in a long time.

“It’s okay,” Dean promised him. “I got you.”

“Dean, I don’t know if I can—” Cas said, afraid any moment that the fear and shame would start flooding in. But Dean moved in closer instead, giving Castiel a kiss on his neck, distracting him. Pleasure started building heavily in Cas’s lungs, every muscle tensing.

Cas pulled Dean as near as he could, grasping his shoulder, his whole body fighting to eliminate the space between them. This was a far cry from the white wedding bed Castiel had been promised growing up but it was perfect, the best Castiel could ever have hoped for. “Dean,” Cas gritted out. “I think, I’m—”

“Hell yeah,” Dean grinned enthusiastically. “C’mon Cas. Let go. Let it all—” Castiel cut off his words, grasping Dean’s jaw and kissing him, sweet and tight and hot and Castiel was finishing, grabbing for purchase anywhere he could. He froze, face pressed tightly against Dean’s neck, feeling Dean’s breaths as he finished hard against him.

Panting like an animal, Cas came down, heart beating fast and hard in his chest, to the point of bruising. He felt alive, awake, and then warm and soft, particularly beneath Dean’s gaze for Dean was watching him, eyes wide and thoughtful. And Castiel was wet. He glanced down at his stomach, then back up at Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized at the sight of Dean’s shirt, and at his skin, smattered with semen. Dean stared at Castiel for a moment than burst out laughing.

“Dude, you should see your face,” he howled.

“Your shirt,” Cas complained, out of breath. Here he was, laying down in his own spending, and Dean was laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Dean leaned over to the front seat, rummaging around in the dashboard before pulling out some wet wipes. He pulled out a few for Cas and one for his shirt.

“My line of work, I deal with stains all the time,” he grinned, eyeing Cas as Cas cleaned himself. “And, not gonna lie…it’s kinda hot, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked doubtfully, cheeks burning. Dean just grinned to himself, and avoided Cas’s gaze.

So, he found this…attractive. He found _Castiel _attractive. “What about you?” Cas asked quietly. He licked his lips, looking up at Dean. Dean looked back down at him, a little bemused. But when he glanced over Cas’s body, his eyes were dark, aroused.

“Okay,” Dean decided, almost impulsively. “But I run the show. I pitch, alright?”

“Alright,” Cas echoed dumbly. And then Dean put his hands on either side of Cas’s face, kissing him firmly, and tugging him down. Cas could hear the metallic jingle of Dean undoing his belt, and then his zipper. Dean stripped off his pants and maneuvered Cas’s leg on the seat and got on top of him, grinning wolfishly.

In a moment, Dean was perched on Cas’s thigh, and he began to rock himself along it. He was still wearing underwear, his shirt and the binder beneath, but he was pressed tight and hot against Castiel, cheeks flushed. “You’re so beautiful,” Cas confessed, tentatively reaching up to help guide Dean’s hips.

“You know, Cas,” Dean hissed, somewhere between embarrassed and delighted, “most people stick with handsome.”

“That too,” Cas smiled, feeling drowsy and content. “But you _are _beautiful, Dean.” Dean grumbled, redoubling his efforts. Castiel could imagine Dean thrusting himself between Cas’s legs like that and the thought dried his mouth. Perhaps they’d have time for it. Dean, for whatever reason, seemed to enjoy, prefer even, Castiel’s company.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met, or ever will meet, someone as beautiful,” Cas murmured, feeling the muscles of Dean’s back flex as he moved. Dean had to know. “As strong, and brave, and righteous. Your heart—”

“Oh, can it,” Dean nearly whined, but Castiel knew for once that Dean didn’t mean it. Cas reached to place his palms on the skin of Dean’s waist, just beneath the cotton of his top.

“I’m so lucky,” Cas said, spreading his fingers across Dean’s ribs, on his muscular stomach. “So lucky to have met you.”

“You’re gonna take that back pretty—” Dean choked off, moaning. “Pretty quick, Cas.” Cas trusted Dean’s opinion on most things, but not of himself.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said. It wasn’t often that Dean would just let Cas talk about things like this so he took his opportunity. “This has been the best year of my life.” Cas felt choked, tears budding up at the corners of his eyes. “So, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Okay, goddamnit, get over here,” Dean cursed, grabbing Cas’s shoulders and pushing him backwards onto the seat, kissing him deeply. Cas tried to keep up but Dean was moving so quickly. Just from being with Castiel, it seemed, that Dean was nearly complete. And then Dean was taking Castiel’s hand, pressing it down between them. “Do me a favour,” he said. “Just, friggin’—hold that—”

“Dean,” Cas gasped, moving his hand to meet Dean, listening to Dean’s curses. He felt like he could this for the rest of his life, regardless of how many days there were left in it. Dean’s jaw was set, eyes shut tight as he moved. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted, and Cas could feel how hard he was, could hear the way his breath was catching. Cas didn’t want to make assumptions. But. He was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with Dean. That he’d loved Dean from the moment they’d met.

“I’m glad,” he said, adjusting so that he was cradling Dean completely. Dean swore again and didn’t look at Castiel. Cas leaned in, pushing Dean’s amulet to the side so that he could press kisses to Dean’s throat, leisurely grinding Dean with his palm. He didn’t know much more beyond this to please Dean, but Dean seemed satisfied.

He mumbled something unintelligible and leaned down, Castiel stretching to meet him. Dean kissed him deeply, lazily, tipping him backwards until Castiel was on his back again with Dean above him, moving across his jaw. But he could feel Dean’s movements get more and more desperate, until finally Dean’s muscles tensed with one final blasphemy, and essentially collapsed on top of Castiel.

Dean let out a deep sigh. Castiel…really couldn’t complain about the situation he’d found himself in. Dean was pressed tightly against him, one arm around Castiel’s neck, the other on his arm still. “Was that good?” Castiel asked, lungs a little crushed by the weight of Dean’s body, echoing Dean’s earlier question.

“Smartass,” Dean replied with a sigh, moving off of Castiel. He tapped Cas’s shoulder and Castiel sought Dean’s face, worried, but Dean was smiling.

“So,” he said conversationally, moving to sit upright. “Don’t do that everyday.” Castiel wouldn’t mind if they did. Dean leaned over him to unroll the window, letting some evening air brush inside the vehicle. Dean sat back down next to Castiel and Castiel awkwardly turned over and pulled up his pants. Dean moved to follow suite.

“I…enjoyed that,” Castiel said.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I noticed.” Castiel couldn’t even take it personally. Dean let out his breath, still winded. His cheeks were flushed, dewy with sweat. And Cas realized he was happy. He could almost _feel _Dean’s pleasure, shy and indulgent, like it was coming off his body like heat. He was radiant.

“So, Cas…where to?” Dean asked. “I can drive you wherever.” He sounded apprehensive, but softer now, knowing Cas didn’t want to leave. Still, as always, he gave Cas an out and Cas, knowing that it meant something to Dean, would always choose to stay.

“A different motel,” Cas decided, scooting closer to rest his head against Dean’s shoulder, feeling drowsy. Dean laughed.

“With one bed?” he asked. Cas didn’t say anything, feeling like he was teased and Dean laughed. Dean ran his hand across the thin hair on his scalp, smiling. He really was beautiful. After such a hellish day, a hellish life, Cas had made him happy.

“Cas, I can’t promise you a good life,” Dean spoke up, clearing his throat. “You can’t promise me that either.” There was a chance Cas was naïve, but he couldn’t imagine a better life than one he shared with Dean.

“It won’t be easy,” Cas could agree with that much.

“Yeah, it’s not easy, but didn’t you graduate physics?” Dean asked, suddenly belligerent. Cas bit back a laugh and Dean caught him, smiling.

“Nothing’s easy, Cas. But this…with you,” Dean went on, choking up a little. “I gotta be honest. It’s…it’s easier.” Castiel nearly forgot to breathe. To keep himself from telling Dean he was in love with him he turned and cradled Dean’s jaw, kissing him.

When they parted Dean was grinning again, eyes gentle. “Let’s hit the road, Cas,” he said, looking hopeful and light. He might as well have been welcoming Castiel home. Cas stole another kiss and then walked around to slide into the passenger’s seat of the Impala.

Dean finished rolling down the windows and the air was soft and warm as Dean pulled out onto the road. He promised Cas he would take him out for dinner, burgers, and he let Castiel pick the music. Castiel dozed on and off in the passenger seat, listening to Led Zeppelin and the sound of Dean living alongside him.

It was true that life was rarely kind, rarely easy, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but peace next to Dean as they travelled, like a final piece of a puzzle had slotted into place. Castiel enjoyed the feeling of being alive, of Dean’s hand reaching out, rubbing circles along Castiel’s knuckles with his thumb. Cas took his hand and felt wholly unafraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank [LostLoona](https://lostloona.tumblr.com/), I couldn't have hoped for a better artist! Thank you!  
Here is the [art masterpost](https://lostloona.tumblr.com/post/188684428601/dcbb-2019-art-masterpost) :).
> 
> And thanks to all the people who helped me edit this work ([Kaz](http://gayknight.tumblr.com) and [Christina](http://carrotlesbian.tumblr.com)) and the feedback from my other friends. You all really helped me shape this into something that I'm proud of.
> 
> (Also, just as an aside the titles all come from Amber Run songs, I'd recommend checking out their work)
> 
> And everyone else—thanks for reading!


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